A Band of Freaks
by acer370915
Summary: Lovina Vargas, a bullied junior with a secret talent for singing, finds escape in her after school band. However, the Bad Touch Trio will not leave her and her friends alone! Fem!LovinoxSpain, Fem!CanadaxPrussia, Fem!ItalyxGermany, Fem!Punk!UKxUS
1. Chapter 1: Meet the Band

Lovina Vargas hated lunch.

She hated lunch even more than she hated physics with Mr. Herron, which was saying something. To many, this would seem an odd time of day to despise, especially if you take into account the Italian's rapt adoration for almost all things edible. However, the school cafeteria had become a harbor of rancid memories over the years, a memoir that never failed to elicit a scowl from the ill-tempered Italian.

Today was no different.

As the fiery junior neared the lunchroom from which a chorus of chattering could be heard, a scowl wormed its way onto her face. She was late to lunch as per usual, and as she slipped through the double doors, praying that Madeline's invisibility had finally rubbed off on her, a few dozen faces glanced her way. Had it been anyone else the eyes would have dropped back to the lunches of their respective owners, but seeing as it was Lovina, the school's favorite punching bag, they seemed to instead light up with interest.

Ducking her head, the red-head (whose hair was more auburn than red actually) shuffled to a table in the far back, where she plopped down in an empty seat beside her friend, Maddie.

"Oh, how are you today, Lovina?" Maddie asked politely, peeling the crust off of her PB&J sandwich as she glanced at her companion through thin-rimmed glasses. She was a petite girl, with pale ringlets that looped cutely towards the small of her back and large indigo eyes. She could often be seen sporting twin hair-clips in the shape of red maple leaves.

Being beside the blonde instantly soothed Lovina's frazzled nerves, and she began chewing on a tomato she had brought from home. She and the Canuck had been best friends ever since freshman year; they had met in art class, where Madeline, being the saint she was, helped a cursing Lovina ("Why am I even in this stupid class? Feliciana's the artist, not me!") paint Van Gogh's Starry Night.

"Shitty, as usual. But nothing too bad has happened today," the Italian answered, slurping tomato juice before it dripped down her wrist. The Canadian nodded, opening her mouth to speak when suddenly a hand shot out from Lovina's left and nabbed the tomato she was close to devouring. With little warning, the half-eaten tomato was crushed into the Italian's thick copper curls, causing watered-down red to drip down her cheeks.

"What the fuck?" the Vargas growled, whipping around to glare bullets (glaring daggers was so last century) at her tormentor. The red eyes of one Gilbert Beilschmidt stared back, his famous smirk accompanying.

"Red's definitely your color, babe," he replied, turning on his heel to leave a fuming, tomato-drenched junior in his wake.

"Fuck you, you German bastard!" she shrieked, tears of anger stinging her eyes as the lunchroom grinned in satisfaction.

"It's okay, Lovina, just ignore him," came a quiet, though strangely hard voice from beside her as its owner used napkins to dab Lovina's hair. The Italian sighed, realizing she had gotten off easy today.

"At least Feliciana has a different lunch period. She would've started bawling, especially since this is her shirt."

At a table across the room, Gilbert had just high-fived his best friend Francis before sitting down with the rest of his popular friends. The entire table was extremely good-looking, appearances ranging from Bonnefoy to Adnan. The former was a French-student equipped with a perfect head of golden hair and a nicely stubbled chin. He sported all the latest designers, docked from head to foot in flashy, if not downright outrageous, silks and colors. Sadiq Adnan on the other hand was usually dressed in black basketball shorts and a, most likely dirty, t-shirt. He, too, had stubble, and his body was, in all honesty, ripped from years of sports. However, Lovina's eyes caught sight of a new addition to the table, a boy with curly brown locks and startling green eyes; instead of guffawing with the rest of his friends at Gilbert's most recent prank, the boy stared worriedly at her, his face apologetic. The Italian, in turn, averted her eyes as a deep flush burned her cheeks.

Damn those good-looking bastards.

-break-

Madeline had never been one for backtalk, but as she blankly stared at the paper handed to her, a forceful, "No," burst from her lips. It was sixth period history, and the teacher had just assigned a summative project over ancient civilizations. This wouldn't have been so bad if the top of her paper didn't read: _Name: Madeline Williams. Partner: Gilbert Beilschmidt. _

The teacher clapped his hands, signaling that the students could sort into pairs now and begin working on their projects.

"Uh, Teach? I don't think my partner's in this class." a low, accented voice quipped from across the room as the albino waved his paper around wildly. The MIA partner in question frowned as the teacher glanced at the paper, checked the names on his roll call list, and returned with a, "No, Mr. Beilschmidt. Madeline is in this class, so hurry up, you're wasting time."

Sighing, the blonde stalked over to the idiotic German, nearly frightening him to death as he turned to search the room for his imaginary partner and was met with timid, violet eyes.

"Jesus, kid! Don't sneak up on me like that!" he shouted, clutching his chest as though she had burst from under his desk with a chainsaw. Madeline sighed.

"Look, I don't like you and I know you won't like me, so let's just hurry up and get this project over with, eh?" she said harshly, plopping down in the seat beside him, shrugging off her usually polite facade to instead coldly eye the boy who had earlier shoved a tomato into her best friend's hair.

"Hey, hey, what did I ever do to you? And you're kinda cute...are you new here?" the albino grumbled, his cheeky smirk returning when the girl's face burst into flames.

"N-no, I am not new. I've attended this school since freshman year. I was in your chemistry class, remember?" Gilbert's face went blank as he scrambled for any memories of a class he had rarely attended.

"Ah, n-nevermind,"the Canuck sighed, forced to accept that she was quite unmemorable around here. "Anyways, how about you come to my house today after school so we can start? I already know a lot about Ancient Egypt so we only have to look up a few more facts." The German (Prussian if you want to be really specific) grinned devilishly as he inched closer to the blushing blonde.

"Like a date?" he asked, raising one pale eyebrow as the other girls in the classroom glared jealously from afar. Madeline, noticing this and recalling Lovina's sopping head of tomato-juice, quickly stood from her seat so as to create distance between her and the albino.

"Let's get one thing straight, Gilbert. I will never, _ever _go on a date with you." she stated firmly, ignoring the confused expression that crossed his face.

"Huh? Why the hell not? I'm the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt; every girl wants to go on a date with me!" he bellowed, eyebrows crinkled in incredulity. The bell suddenly rang, dismissing the class, and as Madeline turned to walk away she bit a small, "You're not my type," before scribbling her address on his arm.

"Come over at five, but don't think for a second that I like you."

As the Canadian hurried out the classroom, cheeks burning from her encounter with the narcissistic Prussian, Gilbert's dumbfounded face suddenly split into a grin.

"A challenge, huh?"

-break-

"You're late, idiota! We only have this room booked until the band's after school practice starts!" Lovina scolded, ushering her twin sister Feliciana into the room as the latter apologized profusely, abusing her fair share of ve's as she rushed towards the other two members.

"Ve, hello Alice, Madeline!" she greeted, giving each an exuberant hug as the small group of girls prepared for their daily seventh period practice. They had a gig booked at the local club two weeks from Friday on Halloween and had to perfect their act! "Oh, Alfred what are you doing here?" the younger Italian chirped as she saw Alfred lugging in a cart of instruments from the backroom. He plucked an acoustic guitar from the pile, hooking it up to an amp before responding.

"Ha, Maddie said you guys needed some help on the instrumental in that Unbreakable song. So, being the hero I am, I decided to offer my amazing guitar skills!" Alfred, Madeline's older half-brother, boasted, swinging the guitar to his front as the rest of the group took their positions.

"Okay, today we're obviously practicing my bad ass number!" Lovina announced, yanking the microphone from it's stand as she swigged back some water. Madeline who had grabbed another guitar from the pile of instruments her brother had dragged in plucked a few chords to warm up; she'd never been a strong guitar player so when forced to play she usually just strummed out the steady beat. Alfred was the one who could really rip some chords.

Alice, tying her hair into twin ponytails, situated herself on a seat before a flashy red drum set, a microphone placed in front of her so that she could do backup vocals. (Despite her being one of the smartest girls in the grade next to Madeline, she had always been a true punk.)

Feliciana happily ve'ed in front of an electronic piano while her older sister nodded to Alfred. The room suddenly was alive with music. [A/N: Look up the song Unbreakable by Fireflight right now!]

"**Where are the people that accuse me?**

**The ones who beat me down and bruise me**

**They hide just out of sight**

**Can't face me in the light**

**They'll return but I'll be stronger**

**God, I want to dream again**

**Take me where I've never been**

**I want to go there**

**This time I'm not scared**

**Now I am unbreakable**

**It's unmistakable**

**No one can touch me**

**Nothing can stop me!**

**Sometimes it's hard to just keep going**

**But faith is moving without knowing**

**Can I trust what I can't see, to reach my destiny?**

**I want to take control, but I know better**

**God, I want to dream again**

**Take me where I've never been**

**I want to go there**

**This time I'm not scared**

**Now I am unbreakable**

**It's unmistakable**

**No one can touch me**

**Nothing can stop me!**

**Forget the fear, it's just a crutch that tries to hold you back and turn your dreams to dust**

**All you need to do is trust!**

**God, I want to dream again**

**Take me where I've never been**

**I want to go there**

**This time I'm not scared**

**Now I am unbreakable**

**It's unmistakable**

**No one can touch me**

**Nothing can stop me! (x2)**"

"Ve, did we do good, sorella?" Feliciana chirped as the rest of the band grinned at their progress; the song sounded ten times better with Alfred's guitar.

"Well, I was flat on the second chorus, and Alice fumbled on the drums towards the end." Lovina stated plainly, though her lips were quirking into a smirk despite attempts to suppress it. Finally, she had found her talent, and, man, did it sound good!

"Let's do it again!"

While the band made ready for another go at the song, a pair of sparkling emerald eyes peered in curiously. The Spaniard outside was practically beaming, his sights trained on the spectacular singer.

"_Dios m__í__o_, I think I'm in love!"


	2. Chapter 2: Creeping

Feliciana had never been very good at math.

Or history.

Or science for that matter.

But she was particularly awful at math. Which is why after a few desperate pleas coupled with a spattering of crocodile tears, Ludwig Beilschmidt agreed to be her tutor.

"Ve, thank you so much, Luddy!" the hyperactive Italian cooed, latching onto his muscular forearm as they drifted down the hallway to second period English; the German, in turn, blushed a light pink before muttering an, "It's no problem," too distracted by the body pressed tightly to his to chastise the nickname.

"So how is your band going? What's the name again?" the blonde pressed as they settled into adjacent chairs in the classroom. Feliciana's face immediately brightened, and she hugged Ludwig's arm even tighter to her chest, much to the boy's embarrassment.

"Oh, oh, it's going great! We just perfected sorella's song yesterday, and we're doing Madeline's today!" she squealed, attracting many onlookers, including one green-eyed Spaniard who listened with piqued interest. "And the band's called _Canta Che Ti Passa_, meaning sing and it will pass. Sorella named it; she's always been good with stuff like that, ve~! You're coming to the show, yes?"

Before the blonde-haired German could reply, the eavesdropping Spaniard suddenly rushed over to the duo, his grin practically radiating excitement.

"_Ah, hola! Me llamo Antonio Carriedo y soy un estudiante nuevo de Espana. Por favor, pueden decirme el nombre de-!_"

The boy came to a sudden halt upon the confused (if not frightened on Feliciana's part) faces staring at him.

"Oh, was I speaking Spanish? Haha, sorry, I tend to do that when I am excited. Anyways, can you tell me the name of the lead singer in your band? The girl who looks exactly like you but meaner?"

Feliciana, relaxing upon the realization that this boy was not some crazy foreigner out to get her family, clapped her hands in understanding.

"You mean my sister? Her name is Lovina! Lovina Vargas! Ve, isn't it nice that sorella has an admirer, Ludwig?" Yet again, Ludwig was prevented from answering as the Spaniard, Antonio, spoke.

"Oh, Lovina, _que linda_! Do you think you can introduce me?"

-break-

"What is taking that idiot so long? She better not be hanging around with that Potato Bastard or I'll rip him a new one!" Lovina raged, yanking off her t-shirt roughly as Madeline uttered calming words. "And it's our first dress rehearsal! Hamburger Bastard, you better not turn around!" At the threatening tone in the Italian's voice, Alfred, tucked into a corner as the girls changed, pressed his nose closer to the wall, cringing.

Alice scoffed at the outfit she was wearing: an off-the-shoulder white tee with the words "Loving Rabbit" sprawled across the front, one side dipping down so low her red lace bra was clearly evident. A black skirt that reached mid-thigh was accompanied by a pair of fishnet stockings, making her legs look incredibly long though she herself was a mere 5'4. Dirty blonde hair was pulled up into high twin-tails, bangs pinned back by decorative clips; a fuzzy set of rabbit ears was perched on top of her head.

The Briton grimaced in indignation.

"This is bloody embarrassing," she hissed, yanking the skirt a little lower, only to reveal more stomach much to her chagrin.

Madeline's outfit was hardly any better: a tight white tee that ended just below her breasts, revealing a flat expanse of stomach. Her legs were clad in a pair of washed-out denim shorts that stopped a bit above her knees; black suspenders with tiny silver buckles stretched from her belt loops all the way over her shoulders. Her pale blonde bangs were pulled back in a Bump-It while the rest of her hair fanned out wildly behind her. The outfit together didn't sound too bad, but the low-riding jean shorts were so low a bit of black underwear could be seen resting on Madeline's hip.

"Shut it, Tea Bitch. We have to look sexy for this show!" Lovina cried, digging out her mafia-esque costume and raising it above her head. Suddenly, the door burst open and the Italian muttered, "Damn, it's about time you got here, Feliciana!" as she finished yanking on the dress. Turning around, however, she was met not only by her sister's honey-colored gaze but the emerald eyes of a boy.

The same boy Lovina had seen staring sympathetically at her yesterday as she blinked away tomato juice.

There was a moment of silence as Lovina, who had been half-naked two seconds ago, processed the boy's flabbergasted if not aroused expression; his green eyes were wide, mouth agape, tan skin darkening in a heavy blush. He pinched his nose as though any second blood would come gushing out.

Like a ticking bomb, the girls in the room counted down the seconds until Lovina exploded.

3...

2...

1...

"Y-YOU SAW ME, DIDN'T YOU? YOU...YOU...PERVERT! YOU GODDAMN PEEPING TOM! GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!" Lovina shrieked, throwing the microphone at Antonio's guilty face as he hightailed it out of the band room, the image of Italian panties still embedded in his mind even as his life flashed before his eyes. Even when he had escaped the murderous junior, he could still hear her rampaging through the room, flipping over anything in sight and kicking Alfred repeatedly in the head in embarrassed rage. He exhaled when he thought he was a good distance away, his heart hammering faster than it ever had before; he didn't know if it was because of the life-death experience or because his stomach was full of two-million perverted butterflies.

That girl had such beauty, such passion!

Placing one hand over his still flushed face, the Spaniard thanked God he had moved to America and especially thanked God for creating Lovina Vargas.

-break-

Gilbert didn't know what was wrong with him. He had actually woken up earlier than Ludwig that morning, which was totally unawesome. Ever since he returned from Madeline's house, his entire mojo had been thrown off. That girl was just so confusing! One minute she'd be a stuttering mess, blushing cutely when he cracked corny jokes and pickup lines; the next, she'd be all prim and proper, ignoring all of his attempts at conversation as though she actually _didn't _like him!

But that was impossible, right?

What girl, or boy for that matter, could resist the awesomeness that was Gilbert Beilschmidt?

He groaned as he glanced at the clock for the third time in the last ten minutes; it was still earlier than six, which, therefore, made it too early for Gilbert. After counting about twenty sheep in an attempt to ease himself into slumber, the Prussian's short attention span kicked in and he was quickly dressing. If he wasn't going to sleep, he might as well get something to eat.

Flipping open his cell, he scrolled through his contacts list, searching for a worthy companion as he sauntered downstairs, his white hair a disheveled mess and fly undone.

Alfred?

No, too loud.

Heracles?

Doubt he'd be awake.

Francy Pants?

...ha, too gay.

His finger twitched as he scrolled over Madeline's name, but then pushed back the strange impulse to call her, knowing that inviting a near stranger to breakfast was too creepy even, for him.

Ah, perfect!

The albino pressed the cell to his ear as he nudged on his Converse, a Spanish voice picking up after the second ring.

"_Hola?_" Antonio greeted, his voice chipper as always even though it was six in the morning.

"Hey, Toni!" Gilbert yelled into the phone, hoping he had woken up Ludwig with the sheer volume of his voice. "Wanna get some breakfast with me? I can pick you up in five!"

Even though Antonio had just transferred here from Spain, Gilbert had known both him and Francis practically since infancy; hell, they were even closer than he and Elizabeta used to be!

"Ah, sure amigo! Text me when you get here!" came the expectant reply before the line went dead. Plucking a piece of paper from his notebook, Gilbert scrawled a quick message to Ludwig before leaving:

"dear bruder,

I HATE YOU! I'M RUNNING AWAY AND YOU'LL NEVER FIND ME!

haha jk jk, I'm going to breakfast with toni

see you at school

p.s. Im awesome, love gilbert"

Suddenly, his phone beeped, meaning he'd just received a text. Flipping open the cell, his heart stuttered unnecessarily as he saw Madeline's name appear on screen.

From: Birdie;)

To: Me

Message 6:07 AM:

_Make sure to bring your laptop so we can work during class! Hope I'm not waking you_

From: Me

To: Birdie;)

Message 6:08 AM:

_okay and no you're not. Are we meeting up at your house again today? _

By the time Bir-_Madeline_ texted back, Gilbert had already pulled into Antonio's driveway, honking his horn impatiently much to Sra. Carriedo's annoyance.

From: Birdie;)

To: Me

Message 6:16 AM:

_Well, my brother's having some friends over today...pick me up at five and we can work at Starbucks maybe?_

From: Me

To: Birdie;)

Message 6:18 AM:

_sounds like a date! see you in class_

Now, school was almost over and Gilbert, exhausted after having woken up so early that morning, decided to bail Anatomy. But first he had to find Antonio since he'd given the guy a ride to school and all.

Scanning the hallways after the Spaniard's seventh period teacher disdainfully remarked that Antonio had skipped his class that day, the albino caught sight of a rather tall man peering into the band room.

"Toni, what the fuck?" Gilbert barked, causing the poor man to nearly jump out of his skin. Red eyes met green, and Antonio sighed an, "Oh, it's just you Gilberto. Keep your voice down!"

At this, the Prussian scowled.

"I've been looking everywhere for you! And what the hell are you doing?"

With a sharp yelp, Gilbert found himself yanked to the floor beside his peeping friend, his eyes drawn on a group of girls about to...

Oh sweet Jesus, what were they wearing?

Was that _Alice Kirkland_, Student Council VP? Her shirt was practically falling off!

"Score, Toni!" the albino cheered, slapping his friend on the back heartily as he tried to catch a better view of the girls.

"Yes, you just missed Feliciana's song. The one with the glasses is going to sing next. Oh, do you see my darling Lovi? She looks so cool playing guitar!" Antonio commented offhandedly before gushing over the pissy auburnette inside.

Lovi? Gilbert thought vaguely.

Why does that name sound familiar?

Before he could ponder the question further, a petite girl in a tight white shirt and suspenders reached for the microphone.

Was that Birdie?

Yes, it had to be. She was still sporting those thin-rimmed glasses and bright red blush.

Oh God, Gilbert didn't know if more blood was rushing to his face or...somewhere much lower.

The blonde leaned into the mic, waiting for a beat. [A/N: Look up Anything I'm Not by Lenka por favor!]

"**I will never be, I will never be tall, no**

**And I will never be, never ever be, sure of it all**

**Oh, why's the world so cruel to me?**

**When all, all I ever wanted to be was anything I'm not**

**Give me a break, a little escape**

**I am so tired of being me**

**I want to be free**

**I want to be new and different**

**Anything I'm not  
>I'm not<strong>

**I will never be, I will never be you, no**

**I will always be, I will always be me, that I know**

**But oh, even though I'm happy being me**

**I want to get away from all this harsh reality, oh**

**Give me a break, a little escape**

**I am so tired of being me**

**I want to be free**

**I want to be new and different**

**Anything I'm not**

**Yeah, give me a break, a little escape**

**I am so tired of being me **

**I want to be free**

**I want to be new and different**

**Anything I'm not (x2)**

**Oh, anything I'm not**

**Give me a break, a little escape**

**I am so tired of being me**

**I want to be free**

**I want to be new and different**

**Anything I'm not**

**Yeah, give me a break, a little escape**

**I am so tired of being me **

**I want to be free**

**I want to be new and different**

**Anything I'm not (x5)**"

"Mein Gott," Gilbert breathed, watching the blonde replace the microphone and help the other girls (and Alfred Jones, though who knows why he was there) put back all of the equipment. "She's awesome! And I don't use that word lightly, man. They're almost as good as our band!"

The Bad Touch Trio was a boy band consisting of (who would've guessed) Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio. They hadn't exactly come up with a hit yet, but because of their dashing good looks they were sure to be popular by their first concert.

Suddenly, the albino slumped against the wall then, raking his hands through his snowy white hair as Antonio continued to gawk at the group.

"Oh geez," Gilbert groaned, rubbing his eyes as if pushing away a nightmare. "I think I might actually _like_ Madeline!"


	3. Chapter 3: FrUk You!

Madeline had practically dived out of the black Mercedes as it slammed to a stop in the Starbucks parking lot, all but kissing the sweet, sweet ground in relief.

"Kesesese, are you alright? Was my awesomeness too much for you to handle?" Gilbert boasted, his grin rivaling that of the Cheshire Cat as he guided the quivering Canadian to the Starbucks' entrance; he was internally celebrating the arm she had allowed him to place across her shoulders. However, Madeline barely noticed the fit arm draped casually behind her, too focused on slowing her heart rate.

_Never. Never again._ She thought, shuddering as she glanced at the still beaming Prussian with wide indigo eyes. _This boy is a maniac!_

Needless to say, the albino had practically rammed two cars in the short three minutes it took to drive to Starbucks, blaring some obnoxious German techno as they raced down the street, the Canadian's frightened squeaks all but drowned out by the boy's unnerving laughter ("G-g-gilbert, slow down, p-please!" "Kesesese, brakes are for unawesome people, Birdie!").

"So, what did you want to drink?" the albino asked, fishing out a tattered wallet from his back pocket as the duo stepped into line. Madeline didn't even have to peruse the menu before she answered, "U-um, I think I'm going to get the Maple Nut Cappuccino. What about you?" Suddenly, a deep accented voice interrupted Gilbert's response.

"Мадлен?"

Madeline glanced up, her face splitting into a gorgeous smile that would've caused Gilbert to blush had it not been aimed at a rather scary Russian standing childishly behind the counter.

"Oh, Ivan!" the Canuck chirped, grabbing the stranger's hands with unadulterated affection much to the nearby Prussian's annoyance. "I didn't know you worked here!"

The man smiled, his violet eyes almost as bright as Madeline's.

"Ah, Da. My sister, Katyusha, works here, too. She helped me get the job, though I doubt the owner could have said no to me," the Russian responded darkly, casting Gilbert an icy stare. "So, is this your boyfriend?"

At this, the Canadian flushed a deep red, shaking her head vigorously, unaware that the albino beside her seemed to visibly deflate at the adamant response.

"N-n-no! Not at all! Gilbert's just my partner for a history project! Nothing more!"

_Ouch, harsh Birdie_. Gilbert thought, wincing as he withered a bit more.

"Oh, I see. Well, what can I get for you, Comrade?" Ivan directed towards the feeling-less-than-awesome Prussian who simply glared back at the Russian still holding his Birdie's hands. His arm around Madeline's shoulders tightened.

"A Vente Latte and Maple Nut Cappuccino, _Comrade_." the albino replied through gritted teeth, as the Canuck in his grasp seemed to redden considerably.

"O-oh, Gilbert, you don't have to buy my drink, really!" she squeaked as Ivan punched in the orders.

"Ah, not to worry, Madeline. The drinks are on the house!" the Russian soothed, passing them their caffeine as Gilbert, who'd been rifling through his wallet for a ten, glared fucking atomic bombs at the man who was so obviously hitting on his...his...

His what?

Birdie was not his girlfriend.

Was she even his friend? Or were they just "partners" as she had said earlier?

"Fuck." Gilbert spat under his breath, realizing that he had no claims on the girl yet, and she was still fair game to any coffee-making Communist who wanted to buy her drinks.

Damn.

As Madeline grabbed her drink with a dozen thanks and rushed off to find a table, Gilbert leaned in to the Hulk-sized Russian, who simply smiled back childishly.

"This isn't over." he stated, before turning to follow the blonde towards a table.

-break-

Lovina scowled as she made ready to enter the lunchroom the next day, her good mood from last period (she had gotten an A on her history test! A freaking miracle, I tell you!) evaporating. Yet again, she was late, and as she burst through the double doors a dozen pairs of eyes glanced up at her. She ignored their amused expressions to instead trudge towards her usual seat in the back besides Maddie. However, she noticed the blonde wasn't alone. Beside her sat an exuberant Spaniard, who seemed to be chatting up a nearly one-sided storm as he scooped what looked like paella into his mouth.

"And then once when I was younger, Francis tried to kiss Alice Kirkland at the playground. She got so angry she started chanting some weird voodoo stuff and promised he would never have the girl he truly wanted. It was _so _scary!"

Suddenly, Lovina appeared beside the pair, hands on her hips as she stared down the peeping tom from yesterday.

"What the hell are you doing here, perverted bastard?" she seethed, sitting down across from Madeline, arms crossed tightly over her chest. The Spaniard seemed to light up instantly.

"Lovina, right? Hello, it's nice to meet you finally! Oh, you're even cuter up close~! My name is Antonio Carriedo, but you can call me whatever you want!" he beamed, extending one hand which the Italian eyed warily, her cheeks igniting as she was clearly thinking, What the fuck?

"I am really sorry about yesterday. I asked Feliciana to introduce me, but I guess I came in at the wrong time and-"

"Do you ever stop talking, bastard?" the auburnette growled, snatching a tomato from her lunch bag and biting into it angrily, more to hide her reddened face than anything.

Stupid peeping toms.

"And I'm not cute, you stalker!"

Madeline, sensing that Lovina had secretly approved of the boy's apology, began a conversation that she knew neither could resist.

"So...how about them tomatoes?"

And in an instant, Antonio had launched into a spiel about his tomato garden while Lovina snorted, claiming her's was probably ten times better. The Canadian, though perplexed by their abnormal adoration for the squishy fruit, grinned cutely. It had been so long since Lovina had made a friend outside of the band. People usually disliked her for her bitter personality and vulgar mouth, when in reality she could be quite gentle. Once, when both Feliciana and Alice had come down with the chicken pox, Lovina (who had already had her fair share of pox as a child and was, therefore, immune) rushed between houses nursing the two back to health ("F-for the band, of course! It's not like I care for you bitches or anything!"). Another time, Madeline's entire family, Alfred included, had forgotten her thirteenth birthday, so the Vargas sisters had hosted a surprise party at their grandfather's mansion; the Canadian still remembered the bouquet of pancakes they had given her, which had been placed in a vase full of maple syrup.

Suddenly, a familiar "Kesesese" was heard as Gilbert approached the table, Francis close behind.

"Oi, Antonio, what are you doing sitting with _that?_" the albino sneered, the entire lunchroom silencing to watch the scene before them unfold.

"Fuck off, albino," Lovina growled, staring into his red eyes for a moment before glancing away.

"What was that?" said albino questioned in response, picking up Antonio's half-eaten paella with a nasty grimace on his face.

_Oh no_, Madeline thought, opening her mouth to protest. She was too late, however, as the dish slammed into the Italian's face, causing the entire room to silence before the students burst out in laughter. Antonio gawked in disbelief as the tiny junior, dripping in his lunch, squeezed her eyes tighter together before bolting from the room.

"Kesesese, did you see her face, Francis? Priceless!"

"Ohonhon! I think you did the poor girl a favor, Gil. The paella certainly looked better than those unflattering rags she wore!"

Suddenly, Madeline was standing, her cheeks red with blatant anger. Gilbert ceased his cackling, blinking once, before grinning.

"Birdie! Hey, I didn't see you there! Why don't you and Toni come eat with-?"

_Slap!_

The albino's head flew backwards as the Canadian began cursing at him in Quebecois French, her hand stinging from where she had smacked the damned Prussian across the face. The room was quiet once again as Madeline gathered her and Lovina's lunches, turning to glare one last time at the shell-shocked albino before she marched out of the room, Antonio, still stunned, following close behind.

Gilbert tentatively touched his burning cheek, red eyes wide as he realized what had just happened.

"Well, fuck."

-break-

Lovina had never cried so hard before, not even when some cheerleaders had ruined the tenth grade cell project she had spent sleepless days working on. Her cheeks were burning from embarrassment, and as she huddled in the bathroom stall wondering when Madeline would burst in (which she undoubtedly would sooner or later), Antonio's face flashed through her mind.

The first person outside of the band to be nice to her in three years and he had to watch his paella get shoved in her face.

Not like it mattered. The damn bastard was probably laughing with all of his other dumbass friends anyways.

She used more tissue paper to scrub off her face, not even jumping when the bathroom door opened and a string of French curses was heard.

"Stupid Gilbert, I'll do the project by myself that-_gah!_" Madeline muttered as she yanked open the stall Lovina was most likely hiding. Her ferocious indigo eyes softened at the sight of her friend, gorgeous despite the paella still clinging to her auburn hair, and she coaxed the Italian out.

"C'mon, let's get this cleaned up. Don't cry, it could have been a lot worse." the Canadian soothed, leading a sniveling junior to the bathroom sink, where she proceeded to wash out the girl's hair.

"I-I wasn't crying!" Lovina started, trying to gather some pieces of her pride as Madeline's soft hand sifted through her wet hair. "I just got paella in my eye."

Suddenly, a knock was heard from the door.

"Is she alright?" a deep, Spanish voice lilted, his voice laced with legitimate concern.

Lovina's eyes widened.

"What is that bastard doing here?" she asked, her head still pressed under the faucet. The Canadian smiled knowingly as she turned the water off, wringing out the auburn hair in her hands.

"He was worried about you. Poor guy looked like he was about to cry."

Lovina flushed a thousand shades of red.

-break-

"Oh, man, Francis what am I going to do?" Gilbert whined at the lunch table, head in his hands as the other table residents glanced at him in concern. Who was this imaginary Madeline Williams he kept talking about?

"I didn't know her and Vargas were best friends! Now Birdie probably hates me for all the shit I put her friend through!"

"Gilbert, mon ami," the blonde started, resting one hand on his friend's shoulder. "You must apologize. To Lovina. You may lose an eye, but if you really want a chance with my cousin you must throw away your pride."

The albino stopped his pity party for a moment to stare suspiciously up at Francis.

"Your cousin?" Gilbert echoed, confusion and then horror etched on his face.

"Hmm? I am surprised you did not guess. The only reason Madeline's hair is so gorgeous is because she is related to me. Ohonhon!"

The albino covered his face with his hands again.

"Oh God, I like a relative of Francis!" he bemoaned as the Frenchman clutched his heart in mock offense.

…

"Did I not mention that her older brother is Alfred Jones?"

Gilbert practically screamed in horror.

-break-

"Look Toni, I'm going to apologize to her right now!" Gilbert growled as the trio marched towards the band hall seventh period, the albino rubbing his arm where the Spaniard had socked him a good few times.

"Yeah, you better, mi amigo." the brunette muttered darkly as they approached the band room's door. _Che Canta Te Passa_ was already preparing for their next number. Francis, who'd been boredly following the two, suddenly pushed his way forward, ocean blue eyes wide.

"Is that Alice Kirkland?" he almost exclaimed, wondering since when did Alice possess any musical ability; if it was anything like her cooking, the entire school was doomed!

"Hmm, yeah? Why do you ask, Francisco?"

The Frenchman's gaze darkened a bit and he stepped back from the door. "Why is that damned American there?" the blonde spat, his French accent thick as he watched Alfred get whacked upside the head by a blushing Brit for poking her eyebrows.

Gilbert sighed at his friend's jealousy.

"You see, Toni, while you were off in Spain, Francis and Alice sort of had a _thing_ together. Basically, they fought all of the time."

"It was love! Aggressive love, yes, but love nonetheless!"the blonde defended but was waved off by an impatient German.

"Yeah, well, some love that was. She broke it off with him and they haven't talked since."

At Francis's pitiful frown, Antonio hugged his friend.

"Oh, lo siento, mi amigo!"

"Now here's the kicker. The reason she broke up with him was because a bunch of girls ganged up on her for stealing all of Francis's attention. Alice fought back like hell, she did; hell, I heard her screaming all the way from the detention room upstairs!"

-FLASHBACK-

"Let go of me, you sodding gits!" Alice screeched as one cheerleader yanked hard on her pigtail, the others reaching for her appendages so as to restrain her. She had been waiting for her half-brother, Scotty, to get out of detention so he could drive her home when the cheerleaders were suddenly released from after-school practice. Seeing the Briton roaming the halls talking to the imaginary faeries she always claimed existed, the preps had decided it would be a good time to put Francis Bonnefoy back on the market.

"Bloody hell, I said let go!" she yelped, raising one boot to kick a brunette square in the chest. A red-head punched her in the nose-good God, that bitch punched _hard!_-causing blood to gush out, staining her once white shirt.

"Jesus, I don't know why Francis likes _her_ of all people! Look at those eyebrows! They're humongous!" one cheerleader teased as the Briton jerked back and forth in an attempt to escape. "They look just like her brother's!"

At this, Alice bit out a feral, "Leave Peter out of this!" before tugging harder at the girls restraining her.

The red-head who had punched her spoke up: "If you dump Francis, then we won't bother you or your brother, understand? The Bad Touch Trio is reserved for popular girls only; you must be this tall to ride." At this, she raised her hand a good two inches above Alice's mediocre height. So what, she was short!

Alice opened her mouth to cuss the girls out when suddenly a loud, "Chigi!" was heard. From behind the corner, Lovina Vargas, who had been watching the entire ordeal, building up the courage to intervene, lunged at the red head. She knocked the cheerleader to the floor, and as the girl attempted to rise the Italian gave one strong, painfully loud headbutt.

"I will sic the mafia on all of you bitches!" she threatened, standing to face the remaining cheerleaders. Before the Italian could act, however, Alice had used the temporary distraction to wriggle free of her holds and sock a brunette in the temple. Having been raised with three older brothers, the Briton was far from inexperienced as she threw one elbow backwards, jabbing another girl directly in the mouth.

Before the cheerleaders could recover, Alice had lunged forward, screaming, "Run!"

If there was one thing an Italian could do, it was run.

Grabbing Alice's wrist, Lovina dragged the Briton in a mad dash for the parking lot where a petite blonde was seated on the back of a crimson Vespa.

"Maple, Lovina what did you do this time?" a barely audible voice piped up as the duo reached the vehicle. Tossing Alice a helmet, the Italian hopped into the driver's seat. Madeline wrapped her hands around Lovina's waist as Alice hopped on behind the blonde and together the trio drove off, leaving the cheerleaders fuming by the front door.

_That Lovina Vargas is going to pay. _The red-head thought, planning to make the Italian's high school life a living hell.

-END FLASHBACK-

The story was cut short though as they heard a distinct British voice ring throughout the band room. Francis pushed forward again, eyes trained on the blonde clutching the mic with a dangerous look in her eyes. [A/N: Friday Night by Lily Allen by lovely readers. Look it up, inmediatamente!]

"**Ooooooo, Ooooooo**

**Friday night, last orders at the pub**

**Get in the car and drive off towards the club**

**There's a massive crowd outside so we get into the queue**

**It's quarter past eleven now, we won't get in 'til quarter to**

**It's quarter to and we get to the front**

**Girl on a guest list dressed like a c*****

**She asked security to check inside my shoes**

**You can play this game with me, but you know you're gonna lose**

**Looked me up and down**

**I don't make a sound**

**There's a lesson that I want you to learn**

**And it's if you're gonna play with fire then you're gonna get burned**

**Don't try and test me 'cause you'll get a reaction**

**Another drink and I'm ready for action**

**I don't know who you think you are**

**But making people scared won't get you very far**

**In the club make our way to the bar**

**Good dancing love but you should have worn a bra**

**Guy on the mic and he's making too much noise**

**There's these girls in the corner wanting attention from the boys**

**I see these girls and they're shouting through the crowd**

**Don't understand why they're being really loud**

**Make their way over to me**

**And try to push me out the way**

**I push them back, she looks at me and says**

"**What you tryin' to say?"**

**Looked me up and down**

**I don't make a sound**

**There's a lesson that I want you to learn**

**And it's if you're gonna play with fire then you're gonna get burned**

**Don't try and test me 'cause you'll get a reaction**

**Another drink and I'm ready for action**

**I don't know who you think you are**

**But making people scared won't get you very far**

**Don't try and test me 'cause you'll get a reaction**

**Another drink and I'm ready for action**

**I don't know who you think you are**

**But making people scared won't get you very far.**"

Francis stared for awhile, and stared, and stared.

He knew there was a reason he loved that girl; her sass! Her personality in general was just so compatible with his (or so he thought)!

Suddenly, she turned from the mic and their eyes locked dead-on. Green clashed with blue.

She mouthed the word, "You," before the entire band followed her line of sight to see the three boys stacked practically one on top of the other trying to peer in. Lovina's face turned scarlet and she started cursing in Italian as Antonio waved happily at her. Madeline mumbled a quick, "Maple," while Alice was still in a staring contest with Francis, mouth agape.

Feliciana ve'ed happily.

"Yay, our first groupies!"

**[A/N: so how do you guys like it so far? Oh and if anyone has good song ideas, don't be afraid to share! Reviews are loved!]**


	4. Chapter 4: The Birdie Blues

"You just get creepier and creepier every time I see you, bastard," Lovina remarked as the guilty trio was finally forced to enter the band room. Antonio grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head while muttering a, "Lo siento."

The auburnette turned towards the other two, hands on her hips as she stared at them levelly.

"Well, I know Antonio is a creepy bastard, but what are your excuses?" she questioned, glare particularly directed at a certain albino.

Gilbert had taken to leaning against the piano, hands in his pockets while Madeline avoided his gaze awkwardly. His red eyes glanced around the room uncomfortably as he cleared his throat, unsure of what he was about to do.

"Uh, well, I came here to, uh, _apologize_," the albino forced out painfully, wincing as he looked up at Lovina's quirked eyebrow and Madeline's surprised, if not slightly pleased, expression.

"I'm listening," the Italian prodded, taking a seat in a nearby plastic chair, enjoying the Prussian's nervous swallows slightly too much. He'd probably never apologized a day in his life, and now he had to do it in front of more than half a dozen other people.

"Lovina," he started, daring to meet her eyes for a moment and regretting it instantly. "I am really, really, uh..." Antonio's normally enigmatic green eyes were unusually forceful as he nodded his head, urging the Prussian to continue. Something told him if he didn't go through with the apology his ass would be meeting a certain Spaniard's boot. "I'm...I'm sorry for...shoving paella in your face. It was shitty of me to do. Forgive me?"

The auburnette pretended to think for a moment, tapping her chin with her middle finger before she replied with a quick, "You are most definitely not forgiven, German Bastard."

Well, it was worth a shot.

Madeline sighed at her friend's obstinacy, though she knew Lovina was secretly pleased.

"Ve, sorella, you're so mean!" Feliciana practically sang as Alice was fidgeting under a certain Frenchman's intense stare throughout the entire apology. Finally, the pressure of being stared at so long finally piqued.

"If you have something to say, Frog, then bloody say it!" the Briton finally exclaimed, furrowing her (*cough* massive) eyebrows as her ex-boyfriend stared, surprised, before he broke into a grin.

"Ohonhon, you have not changed in the slightest, mon lapin. Still as sassy as ever." he commented, leaning in close to wrap one hand around her shoulders.

"Get your slimy hands off of me, Frog!" she squealed in surprise, reeling back as though she'd been stung much to Francis's disappointment and Alfred's pleasure.

"Yeah, man, shouldn't you guys be in class anyways?" the American noted, checking his watch to see that the dismissal bell had not yet rung and seventh period was still in session.

The trio looked at each other once before bursting into laughter.

"You crack me up, Jones!"

"Ay, amigo, that was a good one!"

Alfred pouted in confusion.

"Seriously, Jones, the Bad Touch Trio doesn't care about missing a class or two!" Gilbert supplied, noticing that up close this kid did look a lot like Maddie. Same nose, facial structure, skin color, etc. The albino's observations were suddenly cut short by a loud screech from Lovina.

"AHHH, GET OFF OF ME, BASTARD!" she screamed, trying to push away Antonio's face as he all but suffocated her in a hug.

"But you're so cute, querida! You have the cutest little smile!" the Spaniard cooed, trying to rub his face against the girl's cheek.

"I WAS _NOT_ SMILING, THAT WAS A SMIRK! THERE IS A _DIFFERENCE!_"

"Ve, I want to hug, too!"

"FELI, DON'T YOU DARE COME NEAR ME!"

Suddenly, a hand slipped around the Canuck's waist and she was dragged away from the noise to come face-to-face with a grinning Prussian.

"Ah, you might be pissed at me still, Birdie, but I promise not to pick on Lovina anymore. So can you find it somewhere in your awesome heart to not hate my guts?" he asked, nearly aww'ing as Madeline's face darkened in color. She stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before clearing her throat.

"I-I'll think about it," she managed, becoming partially distracted as Francis and Alfred began tugging on a screeching Briton's pigtails. "I-If you do me a favor."

Gilbert quirked a brow before nodding with a quick, "Yeah, sure, anything."

Before her courage could fail her, the blonde stuttered, "T-take me to Starbucks at four."

Grabbing her bag, Madeline all but bolted from the band room as the bell rang, clutching her cheeks in sudden horror as the Prussian stared after her. Had she really just said that? It was so ball-sy, so courageous, so...flirty.

_Oh God._ Did she just flirt with Gilbert Beilschmidt?

-break-

"On the unit circle, you have three really important angles. The 30, 45, and 60-are you listening to me, Feliciana?" Ludwig asked his student as she stared out his kitchen window idly, ve'ing at random points of time. She blinked once before turning to the blonde beside her.

"Can we take a break, Luddy?" she begged, just as Gilbert trotted into the room, ears perking up at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Hey! Feliciana, isn't it? Are you on a date with my unawesome little bruder?" came the gravelly voice as the albino opened the refrigerator, scanning the shelves for something awesome for him and Gilbird to eat before he picked Maddie up at four. The Italian nodded happily while Ludwig growled out a low, "No," pushing away the pre-calculus notes as he realized he wouldn't have the brunette's attention for another half hour.

"Oh, Ludwig, Ludwig!" the Italian suddenly bubbled, turning towards her tutor with a bright smile. "Did I tell you I found a dog yesterday? He's so cute, and Grandpa says I can keep him if I make sure to feed him and stuff. Guess what I named him!" she gushed, as the German's face passed into a look of pure horror.

"Oh Gott, please tell me you didn't-"

"Si, I named him after you! His name is Ludweenie Dog though sorella just calls him Weenie Bastard."

Gilbert, who'd been opening a bag of chips tried to stifle his laughter at the conversation, biting down on his knuckles as he shook with silent chuckles; Ludwig's face was priceless!

"Look, look, I have a picture of him on my phone!" the Italian cried, shoving a blurred picture of a dog into the German's face as she jumped in place excitedly. The male grabbed the phone and stared at the image for a moment, before face-palming.

"Feliciana, this isn't even a weenie dog! It's a chihuahua!"

The Prussian wheezed silently, imagining a tiny, palm-sized chihuahua named after his massive brother but couldn't keep the cackles from bubbling over. Ludwig sighed, scrolling to the next picture when his face suddenly caught fire.

"F-Feliciana, what exactly is this a picture of?" he gulped as he stared at what looked like the Italian in a string bikini. She simply smiled happily.

"Oh, I was shopping for a swimsuit and decided to send the picture to sorella so she could comment on it!" The German was barely listening though, too busy clutching his nose as blood started to run between his fingers.

"Ve, Luddy, are you okay?"

Suddenly, the blonde had rushed out the kitchen door, apologizing profusely as Gilbert rolled wildly across the floor, laughing to his heart's content. The Italian cocked her head cutely, before shrugging her shoulders and asking, "Ve, can I make some pasta?"

-break-

"Stop following me, Weenie Bastard!" Lovina cried as she power-walked to her bedroom, a black and white long-haired chihuahua trotting close behind. She hopped onto her rather tall bed, watching in satisfaction as the dog could only stare up at her from its position on the floor. Its tiny yips received nothing but profanities in return.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and her grandfather called up the stairs in a sing-song voice much too similar to Feliciana's, "Lovina! Somebody's at the door for you~!" The girl's head shot up, wondering who the hell was visiting her. She better not walk outside and get a face full of egg or something.

Darting down the stairs, aversion towards the puppy no longer at the forefront of her mind even as it chased her heels, Lovina yanked open the front door to find an idiotic Spaniard waiting. Upon seeing her, he whipped a bouquet of fresh white daisies out from behind his back. Lovina's jaw dropped.

"W-What the hell are you doing here, Bastard?" she asked (n-no, she did not squeak!) after a minute's excruciating pause, watching as Antonio placed the flowers in her unresponsive hands. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, I was wondering if you would like to get something to eat...with me?" he asked, clearly nervous though his smile did not falter. Was it too soon to ask her out? His madre said all girls loved flowers, so why was Lovina holding the daisies as if they would catch fire any second?

She gawked at him for a good minute or two, making the Spaniard shift awkwardly in place as his heartbeat picked up in anticipation.

"Is this a fucking joke?" the Italian finally spat rudely, staring at both him and the flowers with something akin to disgust. Antonio's heart plummeted.

"N-no, it's not a jok! I was just thinking you might be hungry and my madre said all girls loved-" he rambled, stomach fluttering as the girl he'd grown so fond of promptly slammed the door in his face.

"Get off of my doorstep, Bastard!" she screamed past the wood in between them, dashing upstairs before the man could ring the doorbell again. Her grandfather peered around the corner in disappointment.

Slamming her bedroom door shut, Lovina covered her cheeks in sheer mortification, the heat radiating beneath her palms.

Never in her entire life had she been asked out by a boy; Antonio was the first to ever have the gall and being the idiot she was she had slammed the door in his face!

Muttering the word stupid over and over again, the still blushing Italian hit her head against the wall repeatedly, careful not to damage the daisies still clamped in her hands.

After a moment of self-hatred and quick deliberation, Lovina rushed out of the room, nearly tripping down the steps as she barreled towards the front door. Ripping it open and ignoring every alarm in her head blaring that this was dangerous, the auburnette saw Antonio's dejected back trudging slowly back to his shoddy pickup truck.

"Hey, Bastard!" she shouted, effectively gaining the Spaniard's attention as he turned around in surprise, expecting the flowers he'd spent nearly twenty bucks on to be thrown aggressively in his face.

Upon seeing his eyes (damn those abnormally green eyes!), Lovina lost every ounce of courage she had salvaged moments before. She glanced away, heart jumping into her throat as she spoke.

"This better not take too long. And you're paying!"

Within seconds, she found herself pressed solidly against a rather exuberant Spaniard.

"You will not regret this, querida!" he shouted, smiling widely into her hair as his heart practically did a jig in his chest.

Lovina repressed the urge to mutter, "I hope not," though her heart, too, was racing.

-break-

"...are you sure you want to eat here? This place is pretty damn expensive. I would know, I'm Italian." Lovina asked, eying the La Amodeo's restaurant they were currently approaching. Antonio simply smiled carelessly as he guided her inside.

"How many, sir?" a woman asked.

"How many does it fucking look like..." Lovina muttered in response as the woman shot her a dirty look. But seriously, what a stupid question!

"Cute. This way."

They were seated at a pleasant little booth, Italian music flooding quietly from speakers on the ceiling. Lovina's face was instantly buried in the menu (man, did she love free food) as she rifled through the choices, ignoring Antonio's attempts at conversation until one particular question caught her interest.

"So, how did your band get started?"

Ah, now there was a story Lovina wouldn't mind telling.

"Well, if you're _that_ curious..." the girl started smugly, folding her menu as she rested her chin on steepled fingers.

**~FLASHBACK~**

Lovina eyed the girl up and down, having seen the punk every now and again in the hallways but never having talked to her. She was short, almost shorter than Lovina herself. The dirty blonde hair had been pulled into high pig tails, the ends still reaching the girl's elbows. Below a short black skirt she wore a pair of tight black leggings capped with two army-green combat boots, scuffed and dirty as though she'd been parading around the forest (though with her talk of faeries it was likely she had). Her off-the-shoulder shirt was gray and proudly displayed the words, "Kiss My Crumpet" in faded crimson lettering; around her neck a Union Jack tie hung loosely.

"What's your name again?" Lovina asked as the trio made themselves comfy on the Italian's queen-sized bed. In between them sat a large plate of cookies Feliciana had made upon her sister's arrival, and Alice rubbed her still sore nose where the red-head had socked her.

"Alice Kirkland, and yours?"

"Lovina Vargas, and this is my best friend Madeline Williams."

There was an awkward silence then, none too sure of what to say next.

"Um, aren't you d-dating Francis Bonnefoy? He's m-my cousin and-" Madeline piped, trying to make conversation as she clung tightly to a large, oversized polar bear (Kumakichi? Kumajojo?) in front of her.

"_Was_." Alice corrected suddenly, glancing away. "I was dating him."

"O-oh."

Another awkward minute passed.

"Well, um, I'm sorry for intruding. Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Vargas."Alice muttered, unable to handle the silence and pushing off of the bed when suddenly she saw something that caught her eye.

"Are those...drumsticks?" she questioned, intrigued, reaching for the crossed pieces of wood on Lovina's side table. The moment they were firmly in her grasp, the Briton couldn't help but break out into a grin. She hadn't played the drums for months!

At her question, the other two girls perked up.

"Can you play?" they asked almost simultaneously. They had been in serious need of a drummer ever since Bella, a cute Belgian girl and childhood friend of Lovina's, had gone off to college.

"Yes, of course! Do you have a set?" Alice responded, as Lovina suddenly jumped up from the bed, plate of half-eaten cookies left in her wake.

"Hell yes I do! What songs can you play?" the Italian near-shouted, leading the group into her garage downstairs.

"Anything punk, really," came the response as the garage door was proudly thrown open.

Alice nearly hopped up and down in excitement upon seeing the shiny, red, almost unused drum set sitting in its pristine glory along the wall. Ever since her old drum set was utterly destroyed (Scotty, that bloody git, had forgotten the garage was off-limits for cars and had plowed down the set one drunken night while parking), she'd been growing quite antsy.

"My grandfather, that crazy bastard, used to play in a band." the Italian explained, gesturing to the variety of instruments scattered about as she handed Madeline an acoustic guitar. "Can you do the drums for Fences by Paramore?"

The Briton sat proudly at the drums, sticks at the ready.

"Of course!"

Lovina smirked.

"Alrighty then, I think we have ourselves a drummer. Feliciana, get your ass in here!" [A/N: Look up Fences by Paramore obviously...]

"**I'm sitting in a room made up of only big white walls and in the hall**

**There are people looking through the window in the door**

**They know exactly what we're here for**

**Don't look up, just let them think**

**There's no place that you'd rather be**

**You're always on display for every to watch and learn from**

**Don't you know by now?**

**You can't turn back **

**Because this road is all you'll ever have**

**And it's obvious that you're dying, dying**

**Just living proof that the camera's lying**

**And oh, oh open wide**

**'Cause this is your night so smile**

**'Cause you'll go out in style (you'll go out in style)**

**If you let me I could**

**I'd show you how to build your fences, set restrictions**

**Separate from the world, the constant battle that you hate to fight, just blame the limelight**

**Don't look up, just let them think**

**There's no place that you'd rather be**

**And now you can't turn back**

**Because this road is all you'll ever have**

**And it's obvious that you're dying, dying**

**Just living proof that the camera's lying**

**And oh, oh open wide**

**'Cause this is your night so smile**

**Yeah, yeah, you're asking for it**

**With every breath that you breathe in**

**Just breathe it in**

**Yeah, yeah, well, you're just a mess**

**You do all this big talking**

**So now let's see you walk it**

**I said let's see you walk it**

**Yeah, yeah, well, you're just a mess**

**You do all this big talking**

**So now let's see you walk it**

**I said let's see you walk it**

**And it's obvious that you're dying, dying**

**Just living proof that the camera's lying**

**And oh, oh open wide**

**Yeah, oh, oh open wide (x2)**

**'Cause you'll go out in style (you'll go out in style).**"

Lovina panted, a little out of breath from singing but elated nonetheless. She tried to think of what to say without sounded cheesy as shit (so no "Good job, girls!" or "We rock!" allowed) and settled for a simple, "Fuck yeah!"

**~END FLASHBACK~**

Antonio stared at her wide-eyed, surprised to have heard the girl speak so much in one single go. The band must really mean a lot to her.

The waitress had taken their orders and was already lugging out their dishes, placing them on the table much to the satisfaction of Lovina.

"Wow, Lovi, I've never heard you sound so happy before! We should play together sometime, you and I!" the Spaniard suggested, taking a stab at his fettucine alfredo while his (dare he say it?) date raised one slender eyebrow incredulously.

"You play, Bastard?" she asked, secretly impressed though she'd never say it. What? Every girl has a fetish for band members!

"Si! I can play drums and sing, though Gilly hogs the mic most of the time. Francis plays bass guitar and keyboard, a lot like his cousin, um...Margaret? Melanie?"

"Madeline," the Italian growled, no longer as impressed. Fuck fetishes, this boy was an idiot.

"Si, Madeline! Ah, Gilberto seems to really like her!" Antonio announced almost proudly, smiling like a fool as his foot accidentally brushed against Lovina's, making the girl cough uncomfortably and-

"Wait!" the girl shouted, interrupting Antonio's train of thought with her outburst. "That kraut likes Maddie? Oh, hell no! Wait, until Alfred hears about this. He's going to fucking shit his pants-" At the mental image, the Spaniard winced. "-and rip off that German's wurst!"

Yet again, another wince-inducing image. Antonio really regretted having such a big mouth.

"I thought he was dating that crazy Hungarian bitch?" the auburnette asked suspiciously, simmering at the idea of a nasty German fraternizing with her innocent, polar bear-hugging Canadian.

"On and off, but right now she's dating Roderich Edelstein."

"The piano whore?"

"Language, Lovi. But, yes."

Lovina raised a cannoli-covered fork towards the boy opposite her, eyes narrowed in warning.

"Whatever. Just make sure that red-eyed freak stays away from Maddie. She's too good for him." the Italian threatened as though Alfred wouldn't be enough to scare the albino off.

"Aw, that wasn't very nice, Lovi..."

Lovina stabbed him in the arm just as the check came. Upon opening it, Antonio swallowed nervously.

_That's a lot of money. _He thought, grimacing but deciding it was worth it. He'd gladly spend his week's wages on his fiery Italian!

When he placed three twenty-dollar bills on the table, Lovina frowned guiltily. She knew this place was expensive, but she still felt bad he spent so much money on her of all people!

Deciding it would be the nice thing to do, she pressed her foot up against Antonio's and kept it there. Of course, her face promptly caught on fire as soon as her ankle touched the hair on his leg, but if he was willing to pay that much he should get some human contact out of it. Antonio noticed the action and his tanned cheeks, too, caught color as he beamed idiotically.

"Aw, Lovi, did you want to play footsie?" the moron asked bluntly (not to mention loudly!), causing the girl to roar indignantly and kick him in the shin.

"Stupid Bastard! Way to ruin the mood!" she shouted before rushing off to the pickup truck, leaving a stunned, albeit happy, Spaniard in her wake.

-break-

Gilbert was not having fun.

Not at all.

How could he have fun when the girl he had started developing real feelings for (not just lustful feelings but real, I-like-your-personality type feelings) was having a very deep conversation on hockey with Ivan!

Being ignored was totally unawesome.

The final straw came when Ivan wiped away Maddie's cute milk mustache with his thumb, causing the two to double over in laughter. Sickening!

"That's it!" Gilbert screamed, standing up so quickly that his chair flew backwards; this proved a very effective way to gain the attention of half the Starbucks customers, though the albino didn't care in the slightest. "Commie, don't you have work to do?"

Ivan narrowed his frightening purple eyes at the Prussian, standing to his towering height of 6'5 in an attempt to intimidate the smaller man.

"Is there a problem, Comrade?" the Russian asked in a sickly-sweet voice.

"Hell yes, there's a problem. You're fat fucking ass is in my way, that's the problem!"

"Gilbert!" Madeline squeaked in horror, watching as the scene escalated from bad to worse.

"In your way to what? Madeline? She does not seem very interested in you at the moment, I am afraid."

Gilbert growled, using all of his force to shove the man backwards though he only forced him back a few feet; however, it was enough to successfully piss the Russian off and cause him to eagerly shove Gilbert in return.

"Leave Birdie alone, Braginski!"

"I could say the same to you, Beilschmidt."

"Please, stop it!" Madeline shouted, though she was easily ignored. "Hey! You guys!"

The two had resorted to physical shoving again, and the Canadian, sticking to her peaceful nature, attempted to intervene by stepping in front of Ivan. Which turned out to be an extremely awful idea, because just as she stepped forward Gilbert had sent his fist flying.

The punch, unfortunately, was solid, and the minute Madeline hit the floor all breathing in the room ceased.

"Shit, Birdie!" Gilbert cried, dropping to his knees beside the curled up girl. She was rubbing her chin, attempting not to sob but failing miserably as her assaulter tried to look at her face.

"Birdie, I'm-I'm so so sorry." the Prussian muttered earnestly as the girl stared up at him with watery violet eyes. "Shh, love, I'm sorry. Hush, baby doll. How's your chin? Does it hurt bad? I am so sorry."

Madeline touched his hand, which was probing her face for more injuries, gently, her lips quirking into a smile at his comforting tone.

"I-i-it's okay, Gilbert." she assured, rubbing his hand with her thumb as he stared down with guilty red eyes.

He knew it wasn't.


	5. Chapter 5: Ready or Not

**[Summary from the last chapter: Alice Kirkland has attracted the attentions of American football star, Alfred F. Jones, and French heart-breaker, Francis Bonnefoy. Lovina finally agreed to go on a date with Spanish foreign exhange student, Antonio Carriedo, which surprisingly ends on a good note. Gilbert, on the other hand, is having piss poor luck with Lovina's best friend, Madeline Williams. On a date to Starbucks, Gilbert starts a fight with Ivan Braginski, another suitor determined to win Madeline's heart; when the Canadian tried to intervene in their rough housing, Gilbert accidentally punched her in the face. Smooth move, Gilbert.]**

Today had not been a good day for Alfred Freedom Jones.

First, his tomcat Glory had taken a piss on his most expensive pair of American Eagle ("Hahaha, the most heroic store ever!") tennis shoes. Then, he had to deal with a perverted Frenchman running his filthy hands all over his year-long crush, Alice Kirkland. And now, he was busy pacing the living room floor as his little sister clutched a bag of frozen tater tots to the purple bruise blossoming across her chin.

"Dammit, Maddie! Whose ass am I kicking tonight?" he demanded over the roar of a hockey game blaring on TV. Madeline shifted slightly to lay on her back, refusing to meet her brother's eyes as she sighed.

"Forget about it, Alamo," she replied dismissively, using a nickname she'd come up with when the two would play cowboys and Indians as children-she had always been Tiny Polar Bear, an Indian, while Alfred had been Little Alamo, a [heroic] Texan cowboy. Needless to say, Alfred got a little _too_ into character. "And don't tell Lovina!"

Alfred didn't have time to respond because his phone was suddenly blaring the British National Anthem, meaning-

"Alice!" Alfred boomed after a moment of fumbling with his cell, bad mood dissipating as a goofy grin crossed his face. "What's up?" He turned to Madeline for a moment with a pointed look that clearly read, "This conversation isn't over," before he returned to the Brit on the other line. The Canadian exhaled in relief.

As Alfred slipped on his favorite leather bomber's jacket, Madeline decided to check her phone only to see it swarming with texts and missed calls, the majority of which were from a remorseful Gilbert.

_Oh my_, the blonde thought, feeling exceedingly guilty at having unintentionally ignored the Prussian's desperate apologies. Deciding to end the poor fellow's misery, Madeline was about to call him back when the doorbell suddenly rang. With Alfred gone, the couch-ridden Canadian had no choice but to drag herself from her supine position to the door. Upon opening it, a large sunflower was shoved into her face by a cute, twelve-year old with twin brunette pigtails splayed across her flat chest. She wore a flowing blue sundress and an impish grin that nearly challenged Alfred's own beaming smile. Madeline faintly remembered the girl sweeping out the flower shop Bella used to work at with her older brother, Lars.

"Hello, my name is Michelle!" the girl boasted with an unusual accent, rocking back and forth on her bare feet. "I'm delivering this to a Miss Madeline Williams!" The blonde flushed a thousand shades of red, tentatively grasping the flower's stem as the brunette before her turned on her heel and dashed off.

"Wait, who is this from?" the Canadian quietly cried, stepping forward only to have a small card flutter down from the red bow wrapped around the stem's girth.

_'Hope you feel better, da?'_ it read, causing the girl to flush deeper.

Parked a few houses away, a Prussian seethed from behind the steering wheel of his Mercedes Benz, a bouquet of Lillies crushed in his steely grip. After a pissed Francis (Frenchman apparently did not take well to having their cousins punched in the face) had finished yanking the Prussian's hair like some primped up feral kitten, he had practically tossed Gilbert's sorry ass into the nearest flower shop, demanding that the albino spend at least forty dollars on a handful of roses ("The flowers of amor, oui?" he had said, which caused Gilbert to promptly splutter like a baffoon and toss the roses aside in embarrassment). Gilbert had been staring at the Jones-Williams house for approximately thirty minutes now, trying to work up the nerve to get out of his car as he anxiously checked his phone for any response from Madeline. But, dammit all, the damn Communist had beaten him to the punch (at this train of thought, Gilbert winced, unable to hear the word punch without feeling incessantly guilty).

Suddenly, Michelle, the girl from Seychelles who helped out around the flower shop, knocked Gilbert from his murderous daydreams of strangling a certain Russian with his own scarf.

"What are you doing?" the brunette piped, resting her chin on Gilbert's rolled down window as she stared at him and the flowers being mercilessly strangled in his pale fingers. The Prussian nearly punched the girl in fright (he had very violent reflexes if his disastrous date at Starbucks was anything to go by), and couldn't help but duck down in his seat. Madeline was glancing worriedly from her stoop, wondering who on earth Michelle was talking to in the car parked suspiciously on the side of the road.

"Go away, kid! She's looking over here!" Gilbert hissed, wondering on what level of creepy it was to watch a girl's house for half an hour. The girl, in turn, leaned in closer, pointedly glancing at Madeline, who looked about ready to intervene in the worrisome transaction (what if some stranger was trying to lure Michelle in with candy?), and back at the albino slumped low in his seat.

"Get out of here!" he shouted again, making frantic shooing motions with his hand as Madeline quickly descended the steps. Michelle only grabbed onto the window sill tighter, leaning into the car with childish intrigue as Gilbert tried to push her off his Benz; he had half a mind to drive away with the girl still clinging to his door. As soon as Maddie saw a stranger's hand reach towards the child, she broke into a jog.

"Hey, Michelle! What's going on?" she shouted in a breathy voice, worried a kidnapping was about to transpire before her very eyes. The albino began cursing in the front seat, knowing he was completely and utterly fucked. Michelle, with her thick red ribbons bouncing on her clavicles, turned and waved at the fastly approaching Canadian, whose face was scrunched up in concern. As she reached the car, wrapping one motherly arm around Michelle's waist as she plucked the brunette from the wndow, Madeline peered in expecting to find some sweaty, middle-aged pedophile clad with a baseball cap and mustache holding out some lollipops. Instead, she met the frightened red gaze of an attractive, teenaged admirer who looked an awful lot like...

"Gilbert?"

-line-

Francis could not breathe. He really couldn't.

Gilbert was curled into a pitiful ball in Antonio's basement, his burning face pressed into his knees as he muttered something about little girls from Seychelles being "unawesome". His two best friends were currently doubled over in a fit of side-splitting laughter, tears of mirth pooling at the corners of their eyes as they could only imagine the Prussian's mortification.

"Oh, _mon ami_!" Francis gasped between barks of laughter, his hand pushing luscious blonde locks from his face. "She thinks you are a pedophile? _Mon dieu_, this is priceless! What did she say?"

The albino groaned, burying his face further into his knees as the tips of his ears turned pink. "She gave me this blank look for a minute and then broke down laughing! Can we please just practice the song?"

"It hurts! _Me duele tan mucho!_"Antonio shouted from his position face-down on the floor, buckling his knees as if any minute he might piss himself. "_Ay, lo siento, Gilberto."_

Francis, who had calmed down considerably, chuckled one last time before muttering in a more serious voice, "Oui, there are more pressing matters at hand. For instance, did you hear that Elizabeta and Roderich broke up?"

At the sound of his ex's name, Gilbert's ears perked up. "Liz broke up with him?" he asked, earning a frown from Francis.

"As far as I know, yes. And that cute girl Mei said Liz has been asking for you, no doubt to get back together." The Frenchman cast a dark gaze at the interested Prussian. "But you have your heart set on Madeline, correct?"

Gilbert hesitated a moment, before nodding vigorously. "Ja, of course! I don't give up that easily!" But something in his voice hinted otherwise.

The albino had always been madly in love with the Hungarian, having his heart crushed multiple times as Elizabeta jumped between him and Roderich in a series of half-hearted relationships. Even when they were together she made him miserable. A true vixen she was, wielding a frying pan that was no stranger to Gilbert's face and luring boys in with forest green eyes and a painfully sweet smile. Madeline had been the first girl the albino had taken a serious interest in since Elizabeta, and, frankly, the other two members of the Bad Touch Trio found the Canadian much more refreshing. Maddie was angelic with her light blonde hair looping towards her shoulder blades and clear, nearly, translucent skin; she was rather short with violet doe eyes that were brimming with timidity. Elizabeta, on the other hand, was a temptress in the making, her deep brown hair cascading in wild waves down to her waist, chartreuse eyes narrowed in a sultry gaze accentuated by a smudge of smokey eye shadow. Her breasts, fairly large if one was to be modest, were pressed snugly together in the bustiers she wore beneath all of her dresses, and if one were to pay careful attention, he would see them jiggle every time she tossed her hair over one slim shoulder. Much to the envy of many girls, the Hungarian's tiny waist led to curvacious hips, rounded thighs, and mile-long legs which she usually decked in dirt-brown boots; to add salt to injury, she wore painfully tight skirts that made her hourglass figure more pronounced. Altogether, Elizabeta was very much sex on legs.

Gilbert had grown up with Liz practically since infancy, their violent natures attracting each other throughout adolescence. When they started dating, however, Gil's jealousy coupled with Elizabeta's constant need to advertise her body and flirt with random boys led to nonstop squabbling. The albino was used to frying pans to the head just as the Hungarian was accustomed to her boyfriend's dirty mouth. Things boiled to a climax when Gilbert, searching for his partner during the Spring Dance the year before, found her in the library pressed against the bookshelves by a familiar Austrian pianist. Let's just say, the relationship did not last much longer. Ever since then, their status as a couple fluctuated on and off, usually depending on Elizabeta's preference that month.

Gilbert stood then, sighing. He grabbed a guitar and began strumming a tune that Francis irrately recognized as the song written for Elizabeta during Gilbert's junior year. The Frenchman knew then that little Madeline indeed had some competition for a heart still partially loyal to its previous owner. "I just need to blow off steam, Franny," Gilbert assured the glowering Parisian, strapping his guitar in place. [A/N: Look up Schrei Nach Liebe by die Arzte]:

**"Du bist wirklich saudumm** (You are really dumb)  
><strong>darum geht's dir gut.<strong> (Which is why you're doing so well.)  
><strong>Hass ist deine Attitüde,<strong> (Hate is your attitude,)  
><strong>ständig kocht dein Blut.<strong> (your blood boils constantly.)  
><strong>Alles muss man dir erklären,<strong> (Everything needs to be explained to you,)  
><strong>weil du wirklich gar nichts weißt.<strong> (because you don't really know anything.)  
><strong>Höchstwahrscheinlich nicht einmal was Attitüde heißt!<strong> (Most likely not even what attitude means!)

**Deine Gewalt ist nur ein stummer Schrei nach Liebe,** (Your violence is only a silent cry for love,)  
><strong>deine Springerstiefel sehnen sich nach Zärtlichkeit.<strong> (your combat boots long for tenderness.)  
><strong>Du hast nie gelernt dich zu artikulieren,<strong> (You have never learned to express yourself,)  
><strong>und deine Eltern hatten niemals für dich Zeit.<strong> (and your parents never had time for you.)  
><strong>Oh-oh-ho, Arschloch!<strong> (Oh-oh-ho, asshole!)

**Warum hast du Angst vorm Streicheln,** (Why do you have a fear of carressing,)  
><strong>was soll all der Terz?<strong> (what is the meaning of all this nonsense?)  
><strong>Unterm Lorbeerkranz mit Eicheln,<strong> (Under the laurel wreath with acorns,)  
><strong>weiß ich, schlägt ein Herz.<strong> (I know your heart beats.)  
><strong>Und Romantik ist für dich nicht bloß graue Theorie.<strong> (And romanticism is not only a grey theory for you,)  
><strong>Zwischen Störkraft und den Onkelz<strong> (between Störkraft and den Onkelz*) *Neo-Nazi inspiration bands  
><strong>steht 'ne Kuschelrock LP.<strong> (is a soft rock LP.)

**Deine Gewalt ist nur ein stummer Schrei nach Liebe,** (Your violence is only a silent cry for love,)  
><strong>deine Springerstiefel sehnen sich nach Zärtlichkeit.<strong> (your combat boots long for tenderness.)  
><strong>Du hast nie gelernt dich zu artikulieren,<strong> (You have never learned to express yourself,)  
><strong>und deine Eltern hatten niemals für dich Zeit.<strong> (and your parents never had time for you.)  
><strong>Oh-oh-ho, Arschloch!<strong> (Oh-oh-ho, asshole!)

**Weil du Probleme hast die keinen intressieren,** (Because you have problems that interest nobody,)  
><strong>weil du Schiss vorm Schmusen hast bist du ein Faschist.<strong> (because you have a fear of cuddling you are a Fascist.)  
><strong>Du musst deinen Selbsthass nicht auf andere projezieren,<strong> (You mustn't project your self-hate on others,)  
><strong>damit keiner merkt was für ein lieber Kerl du bist.<strong> (so nobody knows what a lovely person you are.)

**Deine Gewalt ist nur ein stummer Schrei nach Liebe,** (Your violence is only a silent cry for love,)  
><strong>deine Springerstiefel sehnen sich nach Zärtlichkeit.<strong> (your combat boots long for tenderness.)  
><strong>Du hast nie gelernt dich artizukulieren,<strong> (You have never learned to express yourself,)  
><strong>und deine Freundin die hat niemals für dich Zeit.<strong> (And your lover never has time for you.)  
><strong>Oh-oh-ho, Arschloch! Arschloch! Arschloch!<strong> (Oh-oh-ho, asshole! Asshole! Asshole!)"

After the song, which Gilbert had played thousands of times before, Francis again wondered if the song was about Elizabeta or Gilbert himself.

-line-

Madeline was adjusting the Lillies in a vase beside the large sunflower sprawled across the counter. She had pretty much laughed all the way home after finding Gilbert blushing in his car and was now mulling about the kitchen in search of sweets with a dorky grin plastered to her face. Gilbert's expression had been priceless! As the Canadian pulled out the ingredients to make some pineapple upside down cake, she heard a dying car pull into the driveway outside. Wiping her hands off on the back of her jeans, Madeline hurried to the door, checking her chin in a nearby mirror one last time to see if the makeup had properly disguised the horrible bruise. Satisfied, she wrenched open the door to see Alice and both Vargas sisters waiting impatiently.

"It's about time you guys showed up! The game starts in twenty minutes!" Madeline berrated her friends as they trudged inside, save for Feliciana who bounced across the threshold and into the kitchen.

"We haven't missed it yet?" Alice groaned out, hoping to avoid another eventful evening of hockey-watching and the accompanying headache. Not that watching TV was a bad thing, it's just that watching hockey with an avid Canadian equipped with a wooden hockey stick is a severe risk to one's physical help. Ask Alfred; he had borne the brunt of Madeline's fury many times previous.

"Ve~Madeline, what are you making? Can I make pasta?" the Italian from the kitchen pleaded, her auburn head poking through the doorway as one curl defied gravity. Before Madeline could respond, Alfred burst through the door soaking wet.

"Alice, what the hell?" he heaved, out of breath as he leaned forward, hands on his knees. "You ran off without telling me!"

"Why the hell are you wet, Hamburger Bastard?" Lovina asked unimpressed, one eyebrow raised. At this, Alice scoffed and rolled her mossy eyes.

"I dared the blasted idiot to jump in my neighbor's swimming pool and then Lovina texted me saying she was outside my house and we were headed over here. So I left." the Briton answered simply, causing Alfred to groan.

"You didn't _just_ dare me," he explained as if Alice had missed the most important piece of the story. "You _triple_ dog dared me! That's serious!" The three girls turned away from the idiot before them while Feliciana pat the American on his sopping back.

"It's okay, Alfredo~! I'll make you some pasta and you'll feel alot better! I always make Luddy pasta and he says it's delicious, and that's coming from a taste-deprived German!" she jabbered, guiding Alfred, who was sporting his kicked puppy expression, into the kitchen. When it was him and Feliciana alone in the kitchen, an ingenious idea popped into his head.

"Hey, Feli? Isn't Lovina dating Antonio now?" he asked innocently as Feliciana began boiling the water. She pursed her lips and hummed in thought.

"Thy went on a date, but sorella never mentioned dating Antonio," she replied, which was enough for Alfred to set his plan into motion. Searching the kitchen for his phone which he had thankfully not been carrying when he jumped into the pool, Alfred quickly logged on to his mobile Facebook account, snickering beneath his breath as he quickly submitted a new status.

**Alfred Hero Jones** Sleepover in the next room ;D _with _Lovina Vargas, Feliciana Vargas, Alice Kirkland, and Madeline Williams  
>10 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Comment · Like · <strong>Lars V. <strong>and** 8 others **like this

**Antonio F. Carriedo **don't you dare touch lovina.  
>9 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like<p>

**Alfred Hero Jones** and if she touches me first? ;D  
>8 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like<p>

**Antonio F. Carriedo **where the hell do you live jones.  
>8 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like<p>

**Alfred Hero Jones** not tellinggggg  
>7 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like<p>

**Gilbert Beilschmidt **2319 Lost Lake Drive  
>6 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like · <strong>Antonio F. Carriedo<strong> and **Francis Bonnefoy** like this

**Francis Bonnefoy** Ready or not, here we come mon cher;)  
>4 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like<p>

**Alfred Hero Jones** ...shit  
>2 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like · <strong>10 people <strong>like this

[A/N: haha so the Bad Touch Trio are about to crash an all girls sleepover ;) make sure to review lovely readers!]


	6. Chapter 6: Pretty in Kink

**[A/N: Warning! OOCness.]**

Lovina was currently laughing her ass off.

The opposing team had scored yet another goal against Madeline's favorite team, causing the Canadian to seethe silently in her seat. The final straw had come when Alice offhandedly noted that the Blackhawks (aka Maddie's obsession) were "bloody awful"; as soon as the words had slipped from her usually antagonistic gullet, the Briton had stiffened, eyes wide in terror as Madeline, too, froze in place. Within a moment's notice, Madeline had tackled the frightened punk to the floor in a tangle of limbs and messy blonde hair.

Suddenly, amidst her cackling, Lovina felt the urge to cuss. This was quickly accompanied by an eerie feeling that she was being watched...Turning around, the Italian nearly screamed in fright.

"Lovi~!" Antonio cooed from the doorway, his grin stretching from ear to ear as Gilbert and Francis watched the two girls wrestling on the floor. "Looks like we're spending the night together!"

Lovina died. She truly did. Her heart was beating so fast she felt like it would suddenly stutter to a halt and fall in on itself before spontaneously combusting into a pile of ash. Her mouth dropped in horror and her face blanched, only to turn an alarming shade of red as her senses quickly returned. Without a moment to spare, the room was suddenly swimming with expletives.

"MOTHER *BEEPER*, GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I *BEEP* YOU IN THE *BEEP* WITH A MOTHER *BEEPING* *BEEP*!" she screeched, effectively earning the attention of Madeline, who at the time resembled a hissing Parisian kitten with its fur standing on end, and Alice, who looked pretty much like the terrified hamster said kitten had hacked back up. The two blondes caught sight of the newcomers and sat in silent calculation. Finally, they registered the presence of the Bad Touch Trio and screamed simultaneously.

_Well_, Gilbert thought with a grimace as the girls crab-crawled back a few feet, _that wasn't exactly the response I was looking for_.

"Ah, continue as you were," Francis purred, grinning lecherously as Madeline squeaked a quick, "I'm your cousin!" and Alice spluttered like a fish out of water. Feliciana grinned over her large bowl of pasta, ve'ing at odd points in time as the newcomers inched closer to the girls.

"A-Alfred! What are they doing here?" Madeline demanded in a shaking voice as her brother grinned sheepishly from behind Gilbert, rubbing the back of his head as the trio shot him a, "You better say what we told you to," look.

"Ahahah, hope you don't mind Maddie, but I kind of invited them to, uh, sleepover?" he chuckled nervously, much to the trio's satisfaction. The amount of cursing that exploded in the room then could have easily put Urban Dictionary to shame.

-line-

The hockey game was close to finished, the Blackhawks coming back with a vengeance much to Madeline's extreme pleasure. Gilbert was currently in the kitchen digging out some sodas from the refrigerator as a cacophony of shouts, screams, and curses poured out of the living room. The albino laughed in his throat (a distubing "kesesesese" sound) when a vase full of very familiar Lillies caught his peripheral vision. His delight quickly doubled as he saw that Madeline had carefully placed_ his_ flowers in a gorgeous vase and had simply tossed Ivan's sunflower on the counter (though this was mainly due to the fact that the sunflower was too long to put in a vase, but let's not burst Gilbert's bubble). He returned to the living room practically oozing pleasure.

The television had been turned off, the game obviously over, as the gang was gathered in a makeshift circle (the order being Antonio, Lovina, Feliciana, Alfred, Alice, Francis, Madeline, and then an empty seat reserved for Gilbert). The albino tossed out a few drinks before happily plopping down beside the rather exuberant Canadian.

"Kesese, I propose an awesome game of Double Dog. All in favor?" Gilbert bellowed, the sheer volume of his voice in the open living room causing it to echo as though he'd been shouting into a microphone. The boys all raised their hands immediately, Feliciana following suit soon after, ve'ing even as her sister shot a venemous glare in her direction, one that clearly read, "Traitor". "All right! Five to three, majority rules!"

"Yay, I love games!" Feliciana commented airily, before placing a finger on her chin in contemplation. "What's Double Dog, by the way?"

Lovina yanked hard on her sister's ponytail, a vein jutting from her neck in irritation. "_Idiota_, you voted for a game you don't even know how to play? If I had said, 'Let's play the jump-off-the-roof game,' would you have agreed?"

"Ow, ve~maybe. How do you play that one?" came the idiotic response, but before Lovina could rip her sister's auburn hair from her scalp Alfred decided to explain.

"Haha, let the hero explain! Double Dog is like Truth or Dare, just without the truth. Basically, you dare a person to do something hilarious and if they refuse you have to do it. If you do it, the person who chickened out has to streak naked down the street. If you don't do it, _you_ have to streak naked down the street! Awesome, right?" the American cheered, his grin so bright Feliciana couldn't help but smile foolishly back. The boys around the circle smirked pervertedly.

"Oh, okay!" Feliciana bubbled, practically bouncing in place. "Who goes first?"

"The oldest," Gilbert replied. "Which would be the awesome me! And I have the perfect dare." The girls around the circle visibly shuddered in fear. Turning in his place to face the youngest Italian, the albino continued.

"I double dog dare you, Feliciana, to..."

-line-

"I don't condone this kind of behavior," Alice muttered, though her eyes were practically dancing with mirth as Lovina was being restrained by an overly-eager Antonio. They were piled into Gilbert's Mercedes Benz, which seemed much smaller with eight teenagers crammed into the five available seats. Feliciana was uncharacteristically quiet, adjusting the rather revealing outfit Gilbert had procured from Francis's trunk (much to the disturbance of many). The group stared at Gilbert's house, some sporting wolfish grins while others wrestled with rage or embarrassment.

"Okay, all you have to do is go into my house wearing this, find Ludwig, and seduce him. We've placed a bluetooth in your ear so we can hear what's going on, and Franny's already setting up the video camera outside of Luddy's room. You have ten minutes at most, understood?" Gilbert explained as he ushered the nodding Italian from her sister's lap. Feliciana was clad in a leather bra and skirt, a pair of knee high boots, and a kinky dog collar, her hair pulled out of its usual ponytail to trail down her back. She wobbled on the boots before she quickly straightened up and marched towards the door. "It's either this or she gets to streak in front of the Bad Touch Trio." the albino reminded Lovina as she wached her sister march into the Macho Potato's lair, steps awkward from the boots' leverage.

Feliciana entered the house after fumbling with the key Gilbert had handed her, making sure to close it quietly behind her. The house was completely dark save for a faint light coming from the second landing, notably from Ludwig's room which Francis had placed a camera outside of. Sucking in a deep breath and adjusting her rather tight bra, the Italian trekked quietly up the stairs, trying to regain some of her bubbly nature. She knocked on his door rapidly.

"Ve, Ludwig, it's Feliciana! I came to play with you!" she cried, slipping a finger beneath the hem of her skirt to allow some breathing room for her crotch; that skirt was unbearably tight! The sound of bed springs shifting as a massive weight was removed could be heard, and hefty footsteps hurried to the door.

Ten minutes, the Italian thought as Ludwig ripped the door open.

"Feliciana, do you have any idea what time it-" the blonde berrated before falling short as his eyes swept over the girl's appearance, his face erupting in a heated blush. "W-what in Gott's name are you wearing?"

Feliciana looked down at herself innocently, running one slim finger up her cleavage line so she could fiddle with the zipper at the top. "You mean this? Ve, Francis gave it to me. It's cute, right?" Just because she wasn't the brightest crayon in the crayon box didn't mean she was inept in the ways of seduction.

"W-well, I don't know if cute is the word I would use-"

"You don't think I'm cute?" Feliciana pouted then, inching closer to Ludwig who opened and closed his mouth at a loss for words.

"Nein, I do. I mean I do not _not_ think you are cute. Wait, that didn't make sense. W-what I mean to say is you are very cute!" he stammered, swallowing audibly as the Italian suddenly closed the door behind her. "What are you doing?"

"Just closing the door! Silly Luddy!" she cooed, before twitching uncomfortably. "Oh, these shoes hurt alot. Ve, can I take them off?"

"S-sure."

Turning around so that she was facing away from Ludwig, Feliciana bent over to unzip the knee-high boots, her rear end waving around in the air, skirt hardly covering her bum. Ludwig grabbed his nose. She slowly unzipped one boot before turning to the other when suddenly she "lost" balance, purposefully falling backwards into the boy's surprised arms and knocking both of them to the floor.

With Ludwig sprawled on his back, Feliciana turned in his arms so her chest was pressed snugly to his chin, each bootless leg straddling his abdomen. Her loose hair tickled his blushing cheeks, and through the bluetooth she heard her sister cussing like a sailor and Gilbert kesese'ing his head off.

"Mmm, oh, Luddy, I am so sorry!" she fake apologized, as Ludwig's baby blue eyes were fixated on two rather curvaceous parts of the Italian's anatomy. "Should I kiss you better?"

She could practically feel the heat radiating from the German's face as he shook his head no, effectively making it seem as though he'd just motorboated her breasts. He realized this mistake and thrust a hand up to again clasp his nose. He was about to say something when a gravelly voice cut through Feliciana's earpiece.

"Alright, it's time you get back down here before your sister sets my house on fire." a German-accented voice managed, spurts of laughter breaking through his sentence. Hopping up so she was standing directly over Ludwig's face (oh, if you could have seen his expression then), Feliciana darted towards her discarded boots and dashed out the door, shouting a quick, "Ve, see you tomorrow, Ludwig!" as the Aryan remained unmoving on his back. The Italian burst through the front door, turning back only to lock it, before she merrily ran to the awaiting Mercedes, the teenagers inside either red-faced or laughing. "That was fun!" she shouted as she resumed a sitting position in Lovina's lap, a baggy t-shirt tossed in her direction. Francis launched himself into the passenger's seat then, a videocamera clasped in his hand as his body was racked with perverted chuckles.

As the group drove back towards the Jones-Williams residence, the oblivious Italian scrutinized the teenagers she could dare next. "Alright, Madeline, I choose you!" At this, the Canadian sighed in relief as Gilbert wilted in disappointment; both knew Feliciana's dare would be as harmless as a butterfly.

"Hmmm, let's see...ve, I double dog dare you to get a lap dance at Bottom's Up!" came the unexpected dare.

Madeline's jaw dropped.

"B-but I'm a girl, eh!" she gasped, as Gilbert quietly thanked the sweet baby Jesus for his fantastic luck.

"Doesn't matter, ve~!" the Italian replied happily, as Alice wondered aloud how on earth Feliciana knew about the city's most popular strip club. "Plus, since I'm sure Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio all have fake IDs, they can smuggle us in!"

As they pulled into the parking lot at Bottom's Up, the group noted that it was one of the more classier strip clubs, decked in neon lights, blaring music, and an impressive dance floor. Just like Feliciana said, the trio flashed their IDs, each wrapping an arm around the girls' waists as the bouncers nodded their approval (Alfred nominated himself to stay behind, claiming his virgin eyes were not willing to watch his little sister get dry humped by another chick).

On each side of the vibrating room they entered was a long bar stocked with colorful glass bottles and an assortment of drinks. The baristas wore outfits similar to Feliciana's earlier apparel, mixing liquor into a virtual poison that customers eagerly chugged back. Scantily-dressed women strutted down two separate walkways at the far end of the room, each latching to a pole as men in the audience threw singles onto the stages.

"M-maple," Madeline muttered as Gilbert guided her towards a front row seat. The men enjoying the show glanced in surprise at the four female teenagers, wondering what interest the strippers could have for them. The small blonde with a pair of thin-rimmed glasses was pushed into a prime viewing seat, a wad of one-dollar bills pressed into her palm by a wildly grinning Frenchman.

"Do it, _mon chou_, or you'll have to streak down this _very_ busy street," Francis coaxed as he stepped back with the others to observe the Canadian's performance. She had caught the strippers' attention as well, the two girls on stage glancing curiously at what they could only assume was a lesbian seated in the first row.

Madeline gulped audibly, clenching her violet eyes shut as her body shivered in anticipation. Behind her, Gilbert turned to Francis, his grin no longer as assured as he quietly asked, "Aren't we taking this too far? It looks like she's about to have a heart attack." How unawesome would it be if the girl he'd been crushing on died of a heart attack...

Suddenly, the Canadian made a funny little sound, clenching her fist in determination before she raised twenty dollars in the air jerkily. "H-hey, B-Blondie!" she called, voice quaking in fear as her friends gawked in disbelief from behind. The blonde stripper on the stage to the right glanced up, lipstick smile faltering in confusion before returning with a vengeance. In unnaturally high heels, she strutted over to the cute blonde staring up at her with gorgeous purple eyes.

"Hey, cutie," the stripper purred, glancing at the money Madeline was extending just as the room began blaring Rihanna's song S&M. "You experimenting?" At this, Lovina buried her embarrassed face in her hands and the boys looked on, enraptured. Surely, Madeline would back down now.

"Uh, y-yes. Experimenting." the Canadian piped, as the stripper quirked one eyebrow, smiling. "Care to give these boys a show?"

"I've never serviced a girl before," the stripper mused, descending the steps as all eyes in the audience eagerly tuned in on the lesbian action about to transpire. "What do you want me to do, cutie?"

Madeline's friends were leaning forward, awaiting the response.

"A lap d-dance, if you don't mind."

-line-

"_Gilberto, amigo_! Are you alright?" Antonio questioned as the albino leaned face-first into the wall, his fingers trying to staunch his heavily bleeding nose as he prayed the cold night air would do something for his rock-hard...ahem. In the car, Madeline was slowly decaying from embarrassment, her cheeks forever stained a perpetual pink.

"I'm fine, Tonio," the albino replied honestly. "I just love this game so much."

**[A/N: Hahahahahaha, so more dares to come in the next chapter! xD Hope you liked my attempt at T-rated kinkiness! Review, lovelies!]**


	7. Chapter 7: Rude and Nude

"Haha, I can't believe you did it, baby sis!" Alfred hooted, nearly slapping his knee in pure delight as Madeline clutched her burning cheeks between her hands. Beside her, Lovina snorted derisively, though her lips were quirking in a painfully-suppressed grin as she too found the entire situation very hilarious. The Canadian cast dirty glares at both of them, huffing her cheeks indignantly, glad to be back home. After the incident at Bottom's Up, Madeline had banged her head against the car window until the group agreed to go home.

"At least I did it!" she cried defensively, as the group again circled up on her living room floor. Gilbert had scooted close beside her, but she hardly noticed through her still ebbing embarrassment.

"Feli did her dare too, and she's a total wuss!" Lovina refuted, pinching her twin's cheek roughly much to the other's whiny protests. "She almost kissed that wurst-sucking Bastard! That's probably the worst dare ever!"

Madeline, angry that Lovina was making light of the most humiliating moment in her entire life, suddenly ceased glaring.

Kiss...dare...

Suddenly, an idea struck her. One so terribly, terribly cruel she could not help but cackle maniacally in her head. What? Just because she was a Canadian (generally a peaceful peoples) didn't mean she was against payback.

"Lovina~it's your turn!" the blonde cooed sweetly, earning a cocked eyebrow of surprise from her friend. Madeline's enthusiasm was suspicious.

"This is going to be muy interesante!" Antonio noted, grabbing onto Lovina's arm only to have an elbow jabbed promptly in his face with a small, "Chiigi!" to accompany.

"Give me my dare then, Maple Bitch." the Italian challenged, smirking up at her best friend after Antonio had released her arm.

"Desole, Antonio," the Canadian chuckled under her breath in French, earning a questioning look from Francis from across the circle. Sucking in a deep breath, she uttered the fatal dare.

"Lovina, I double dog dare you to..." Insert wicked grin here. "...kiss Alfred. The good ol' fashion French way."

Silence...and then the room was suddenly in an uproar. Alfred had done a literal spit take all over the carpet, his blue eyes wide in horror. He did not want his tongue ripped out and fed to Francis's pet bird Pierre anytime soon, and, knowing Lovina, that was exactly what she'd do if his lips came within a foot of her face. Gilbert had fallen onto his back in a fit of cackles while Francis muttered some crap about, "So much l'amour in one night!" and "Big Brother is so proud!" Alice had promptly stood up, turned on her heel, and marched from the room, claiming she did not want to be a witness to Alfred's (and quite possibly Madeline's) maiming that particular night. Feliciana clapped happily, ve'ing as though a French kiss was completely PG while her twin turned so many indignant shades of red the warmth practically radiated throughout the room. Lovina's eyes darted from Madeline's smug grin of victory to Alfred's terrified visage frantically. Back and forth, back and forth...

And then there was Antonio.

His eyes were narrowed and the left side of his mouth was pulled up into a snarl. He subconsciously inched closer to his crush and gnashed his canines in jealous agitation. Lovina was stock still beside him, contemplating what the hell to do. She did not want to lose her first kiss to Alfred Fucking Jones. No way in hell!

Not to sound like a total pansy ass, but she'd always wanted her first kiss to be with someone...special? Or at least someone who wasn't Alfred. The thought of how many hamburgers he probably crammed down that day almost made Lovina gag.

"...and if I say no?" she finally gritted out at Madeline, knowing that either way she was royally and utterly screwed. Damn pancake-sucking bitch.

The blonde grinned impishly, a trait she had inherited from her annoying brother. "Streak. Down the street." she practically purred, the French side of her rearing its sensual head.

Lovina paused, her heart having a damn-near fiesta in her chest. Kiss Alfred or streak in the dark? Kiss Alfred or streak in the dark...Kiss Alfred or...She glanced up at Alfred and shuddered. Madeline would never let her live it down; she'd probably call her "sister-in-law" until fucking graduation.

The Italian stood much to Antonio's severe anxiety. He hadn't known Lovina long and perhaps it was his possessive personality speaking, but Alfred would be losing his lower jaw if a kiss did transpire.

Lovina turned to Alfred, twisting her mouth in contemplation. The poor kid was as white as bedsheet, his Nantucket quivering in small spasms of fear. She glanced at the door, then back at Alfred. She finally ducked her head, mortified. Rather than lunge for the American's lips like the group was expecting, however, Lovina immediately took off for the door.

Everyone paused for a moment, wondering what had just happened. And then they simultaneously scrambled to their feet and rushed after Lovina out onto the front lawn.

"Oh my God-"

"She isn't!"

"Holy mother fucking hell, this is the best night of my awesome life!"

"Ohonhonhon~!"

There was Lovina, hurriedly yanking off her shirt and pants and discarding them in the yard. In the dark, the group could faintly make out a bright red bra with green straps (kind of resembling two tomatoes) and an Italian thong.

"Stop f-fucking loking at me, b-bastards!" she screeched as her friends stared, open-mouthed. Lovina Vargas-the girl who could make Urban Dictionary blush with her profanities-was about to streak down the street. Nude.

Holy shit.

"Take off the bra or the underwear! One or the other!" someone called, receiving a flustered, "Shut the fuck up!" as Lovina hesitantly unlatched her bra and discarded it to the side. Quickly slapping one arm over her chest before anyone could see, the Italian glanced nervously at the group behind her, squeaked in fear, and made a mad Italian dash down the street. Without a moment's hesitation, Antonio, the giddy bastard, was chasing after her.

"Lovi~!" he exhaled, easily catching up and jogging at a steady pace by her side. She glanced at him and squawked, running faster than before as she attempted to escape the Spaniard sprinting in hot pursuit behind her. Unfortunately, the whole running faster thing only made certain parts of her anatomy bounce more than any sane man could bear. From the group still parked on the Jones-Williams lawn, she could hear that idiot Alfred shout, "Run, Forrest, run!"

"G-get away from me, f-fucker! Oh, dio, I am out of fuckng shape!" came the frantic cry.

"But I can't just let my Lovi run naked around the neighborhood! You might get picked up by some rapists!" Antonio replied happily.

Unfortunately, another diadvantage of running really fast while trying to cover your bare ass and bouncing breasts was that you occassionally lost balance. And then you occassionally tripped. And then you occassionally found yourself face first on the concrete, darriere in the air with a perverted Spaniard seizing the opportunity to crouch down beside you, grinning pervertedly. Occasionally.

As Lovina grabbed at her face, which had suffered most of the impact seeing as her arms were far too occupied shielding her body to provide any cushion, she completely forgot that she had no bra on. When she saw Antonio crouched beside her, she immediately scampered to her feet only to fall back down again.

"Mother of ass-fucking shit bitches!" she screeched, grabbing her face and ankle-an ankle that was most likely twisted.

God must really freaking hate her. And she'd only run to the end of the street, too (Lovina was hoping to run all the way home and never show her face in public again).

"Lovi, are you okay?" Antonio asked, unable to stop the grin from inching onto his devilish face despite the worried edge to his voice. He tried to keep his eyes at an appropriate level, but they kept slipping down to the chest so completely bared in front of him. The Italian, glancing at Antonio between her fingers while gritting her teeth in both agitation and pain, followed his line of sight.

"CHIGII! Keep your eyes on my face, bastardo!" she screeched, both hands flying to her chest again. Once her face was revealed, Antonio noticed a jagged cut across her forehead.

"Ay, Lovi, you're hurt!" he gasped, reaching for her only to have his hand shooed away. "We have to get you back to the house!"

"Well, no shit, Sherlock," the Italian griped irrately, trying to stand again. Yet again, her ankle dipped sideways beneath her body weight. This time when she fell, however, Antonio scooped her up like a bride and started marching back down the street.

"W-whoa, whoa, whoa, motherfucker! Let go of m-m-me!"

"Ahhh, no can do, mi tomatita!" Antonio piped, grinning happily at his near-naked crush curled up in his arms.

"I _SAID_ LET GO!"

"Lo sien-_ow_! Lovi, you should no better than to hit a man there!"

"What man? I see no man here."

"But I am a man! I have the parts to prove it!"

"Stupid bastard, I don't want to hear about your p-parts!"

On the lawn, the coterie of teenagers could clearly hear the loud curses. When they saw Antonio carrying a less-than-happy Lovina, the rest of the group whooped enthusiastically, cheering on an oblivious Spaniard who beamed as if he was carrying a princess rather than a supine auburnette with a fowl temperament.

Lovina would have buried her burning face in her hands, but she was too busy covering her chest and spewing out profanities to bother. She saw Alfred snap a photo with a cell, and Francis leer like some goddamn predator.

Things could _not_ get any worse.

But, seeing as God loved to embarrass Italian girls, a sleek Corvette approached the group at that very moment. This wouldn't have been so bad had the car not swerved to a halt, its front door flying open with unnatural strength.

"Lovina!" a voice suddenly called, stopping the group cold.

"Che cosa sta succedendo?" ("What is going on?") shouted Romulus as he gaped at the scene before him. AKA: A Mexican was trying to rape his granddaughter!

The half-naked Italian squealed. Though she'd never fucking admit that to anyone. Ever.

"N-Nonno! This-this isn't...what are you _doing_ here?" she screeched, while urging the tomato bastard to put her down immediately. Antonio lowered her to the ground, looking exceedingly guilty as the auburnette staggered on her bad ankle, clearly unsure of what to say next. Finally, before her grandfather could utter a word, she turned and made a dash for the front door, completely mortified and noticeably limping. Feliciana scampered behind as she too tried to escape the wide-eyed gape of her grandfather. With the Italian twins gone, an awkward silence settled over the lawn.

"I-I'm just going to give, uh, Lovina her c-clothes..." Madeline muttered, excusing herself with a small, "Maple," as she scooped up the garments and dashed into the open door.

Romulus stared at the empty spaces for a moment, opening his mouth in confusion a few times before whipping his head towards Antonio. The forced smile he donned then seemed almost murderous when accompanied by the fierce gleam in his eyes.

"So, young man, care to explain why my sweet little Lovina was naked and _limping_?" the older man bit out forcefully, that tight smile never leaving his youthful face.

He cracked his knuckles. The Spaniard gulped.

And that, my dear readers, is how Antonio Carriedo died.

Haha, just joking. But that _is_ how he received a wicked shiner that he would later blame on a 100 mph soccer ball.

-line-

Madeline closed the door behind her and had half a mind to lock it. She breathed a sigh of relief, jumping out of her skin when Alice cleared her throat from the hall.

"So, uh, I just saw Lovina limp upstairs naked, ranting about her grandfather...care to explain what the devil just happened?"

The Canadian dragged a hand across her face in exasperation.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Lovina is cussing, and a boy is involved." she replied, marching up the stairs with Alice in hot pursuit. The two reached Maddie's bedroom only to find Lovina buried beneath the scarlet bed comforter and Feliciana peering out the window, fingers tapping the sill nervously.

"Ve," the visible Italian muttered in dismay. "I hope Nonno isn't too angry..." Her usually erratic curl was drooping in worry, because if there was one thing she feared most it was her grandfather's disapproval.

Suddenly, she gasped, hand flying from the sill to her mouth.

"Nonno-Nonno just punched Antonio!" she exclaimed, causing her sister to harumph in satisfaction.

"That pervy bastard deserved it!"

"You don't really mean that, Sorella."

"Of course I mean it! When I say something, I fucking mean it!"

"Is he alright?" Madeline piped up then, perching herself on the bed while trying to coax out her nude best friend with the prospect of clothing.

"Yes, Gilbert's helping him up, and it looks like Big Brother Francis is explaining the situation to Nonno."

"Oh, Lord." Alice muttered, hitting her head against the bedpost.

Romulus let out a booming laugh by the end of Francis's rather exuberant explanation (which involved an elaborate series of questionable hand gestures and "honhonhon"'s). He patted the blonde's back heartily and seemed to apologize to Antonio.

"Had I known you were only helping my granddaughter, I wouldn't have punched you so hard!" he bellowed loud enough for the girls upstairs to hear.

Lovina popped her head out from under the sheets and snorted.

"Leave it to Nonno to trust a molesting Frenchman. Now give me my clothes, Maple Bitch, because any second he'll be barging in demanding the Tomato Bastard's home address."

"I thought he just apologized for hurting Antonio?" Madeline questioned, eyebrows furrowed as to why Romulus would need Antonio's address.

"Psh, Italians make you _feel_ secure. Then they sic the Mafia on your ass."

-line-

"So, er, how's your ankle, Lovi?" Antonio asked from the other end of the couch, Madeline and Feli squished uncomfortably between them ("I want at least two people between me and that groping bastard at all times!"). Romulus had gone home after assuring that it was all a friendly game of Double Dog and the Jones-William parents would be home soon.

Antonio's question was promptly answered with a pillow to the face.

"Kesesese, come on, Lovina! It was hilarious, and you know it!" Gilbert cackled, relaxing in an armchair that he had hogged all for himself once he realized he couldn't sit beside Madeline. He received a vicious glare and a face full of foot (the good, not twisted foot, mind you) to which Alfred snickered.

"Well, what if _your_ grandfather had caught _you_ naked in that bastard's arms?" the Italian snapped, arms folding tightly across her chest. To hell with hilarity, she had been molested!

"Eh, that'd be a typical Saturday night really." Gilbert muttered honestly, shrugging slightly.

The group chose not to comment on that.

"So what is next on our agenda?" Francis grinned, leaning forward from his seat beside an irritated looking Alice. She had visibly bristled when he settled down beside her on the floor, but the fact that Alfred was on her other side had kept her grounded.

"Well, I don't know what _you _guys are doing, but us _girls_ had this sleepover for a reason," Madeline spoke, pushing onto her feet and helping Felciiana heave Lovina into a standing position.

"Oh?"

"Yes, we have a gig coming up, and we have to have at least seven songs down, ve! So that means practice, practice, practice!" Felician responded as the female coterie made for the Jones-Williams garage where a satisfactory set of instruments awaited, though none nearly as impressive as those in the Vargas' household.

"Would you care for an audience, _mademoiselles_?"

"Go choke on a snail, Frog."

"Uh, no thank you, eh."

"Kesese, you heard Birdie! Let's go listen!" a certain albino called obnoxiously, ignoring the Canadian glare directed at him.

"Er...fine, whatever. But you guys better be quiet!"

Antonio clapped enthusiastically in a way that eerily reminded the group of Feliciana (Sweet Lord, let there not be two!) as the group filled up the mdeium-sized garage, Lovina reaching for the mic.

"Ah, I love it when Lovi sings!" the Spaniard cheered, settling down on a pool table next to Gilbert.

"Be _QUIET_, asshole!" she bit, face already turning slightly pink. "And Maddie, please tell me we're not doing-"

"Call Me Maybe? Sorry, but that song needs the most work. You need to add more emotion."

"Yeah, be happier when you sing that song, Sorella! Not so grumpy!"

"But that song is so...so..._girly_! Why can't Feli sing it?" the auburnette protested, pouting. "Why are we singing it _at all_?"

"Because the crowd loves it. And I hate it as much as you do, trust me, but we have to appeal to all members of the audience, even the girly ones." Alice said informatively, as Feliciana nodded enthusiastically.

"Plus, you're the one who wrote it, Sorella! Remember, you wrote it in eighth grade for Be-!" the younger Vargas commented only to have Lovina's hand cover her mouth. The audience, namely Antonio, looked extremely curious as to who the song was for.

"That's _enough_, Feli! L-let's just get the damn song over with already! And I'll add fucking emotion if I want to add emotion, bitches!"

[A/N: Haha, the song is Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen. It's catchy goddammit!]

**"I threw a wish in the well, **  
><strong>Don't ask me, I'll never tell,<strong>  
><strong>I looked to you as it fell, and now you're in my way .<strong>  
><strong>I trade my soul for a wish, <strong>  
><strong>pennies and dimes for a kiss.<br>I wasn't looking for this, but now you're in my way. **  
><strong>Your stare was holdin',<br>Ripped jeans, skin was showin',  
>Hot night, wind was blowin',<strong>  
><strong>Where you think you're going, baby? <strong>  
><strong>Hey, I just met you,<br>and this is crazy,  
>but here's my number, <strong>  
><strong>so call me, maybe? <strong>  
><strong>It's hard to look right, <strong>  
><strong>at you baby, <strong>  
><strong>but here's my number, <strong>  
><strong>so call me, maybe? <strong>  
><strong>Hey, I just met you,<br>and this is crazy,  
>but here's my number, <strong>  
><strong>so call me, maybe? <strong>  
><strong>And all the other boys,<br>try to chase me,  
>but here's my number, <strong>  
><strong>so call me, maybe? <strong>  
><strong>You took your time with the call, <strong>  
><strong>I took no time with the fall.<br>You gave me nothing at all, **  
><strong>but still you're in my way <strong>  
><strong>I beg, and borrow and steal <strong>  
><strong>At first sight and it's real<br>I didn't know I would feel it, but it's in my way **  
><strong>Your stare was holdin',<br>Ripped jeans, skin was showin',  
>Hot night, wind was blowin',<br>Where you think you're going, baby? **  
><strong>Hey, I just met you,<br>and this is crazy,  
>but here's my number, <strong>  
><strong>so call me, maybe? <strong>  
><strong>It's hard to look right, <strong>  
><strong>at you baby, <strong>  
><strong>but here's my number, <strong>  
><strong>so call me, maybe? <strong>  
><strong>Hey, I just met you,<br>and this is crazy,  
>but here's my number, <strong>  
><strong>so call me, maybe? <strong>  
><strong>And all the other boys, <strong>  
><strong>try to chase me,<br>but here's my number, **  
><strong>so call me, maybe? <strong>  
><strong>Before you came into my life I missed you so bad, I missed you so bad, I missed you so, so bad <strong>  
><strong>Before you came into my life I missed you so bad,<br>And you should know that  
>I missed you so, so bad <strong>  
><strong>It's hard to look right, <strong>  
><strong>at you baby, <strong>  
><strong>but here's my number, <strong>  
><strong>so call me, maybe? <strong>  
><strong>Hey, I just met you,<br>and this is crazy,  
>but here's my number, <strong>  
><strong>so call me, maybe? <strong>  
><strong>And all the other boys, <strong>  
><strong>try to chase me,<br>but here's my number,  
>so call me, maybe? <strong>  
><strong>Before you came into my life I missed you so bad, I missed you so bad, I missed you so, so bad <strong>  
><strong>Before you came into my life I missed you so bad, <strong>  
><strong>And you should know that <strong>  
><strong>So call me, maybe?"<strong>

"Ah, much better, Lovina!" Madeline approved happily, while the garage burst into applaud.

"That was awesome! And I don't use that word lightly!"

"Dude, that was friggin' sweet!"

"Ay, it was very good, but..." Antonio started, his eyes not as cheery as they should be.

"But _what_?" Lovina demanded, hands on her hips as she leaned off of her bum ankle. The hell? Antonio didn't like her voice or something?

"It was good, but...who exactly did you write that for?"


	8. Chapter 8: Past, Present, and Future

**[Refresher! The Bad Touch trio crashed Madeline's sleepover just to spend time with the girls and the group played an interesting (and highly embarrassing) game of Double Dog. After Lovina's grandfather caught her naked and injured in Antonio's arms, the gang decided that they'd had enough dares for the night and instead listened to the eldest Italian sing Call Me Maybe. Antonio then became curious as to who the rather lovey-dovey song was written for.**

**Anyways, sorry for the long wait. I had some problems with my fanfiction password so...anyways, prepare for some PruCan towards the end! And next chapter will mainly be focused on the confusing love triangle between Alice, Francis, and Alfred ;D Tell me which you prefer (FrUk or UsUk) and maybe, just maybe, the story will go your way. Review, lovelies!]**

* * *

><p><strong>FLASHBACK<strong>

"Why don't you come on out, Lovina? I'm not mean, promise!" the new babysitter cooed, reaching towards the nervous fifth-grader with a beckoning hand; Lovina in turn only clenched her Nonno's pant leg harder, shaking her head fervently as she puffed out her chubby cheeks in indignation, eyes glaring up from under furrowed eyebrows.

"Sorella is prob'ly just scared 'cause you're a stranger, Ms. Bella!" piped up Feliciana, who was dangling like an acrobatic monkey from the babysitter's right arm (damn her and her flexibility). "Tell her 'bout yourself and maybe she'll stop hiding!"

_Dumb Feliciana!_ Lovina mentally ranted, crouching even further behind Nonno as she aimed a sharp glare in her sister's direction.

Psh, it wasn't that she was scared! No, not at all! She was in fifth grade already and being scared of strangers was for dumb crybabies like Feliciana! Yeah, she was just nervous, is all. Nervous because...dammit, this babysitter was really, _really_ pretty!

"Hmmm, okay, where to start? My name is Bella and I'm from Belgium. I'm in eighth grade, I have one older brother named Lars, and I think you two are absolutely adorable~! Oh, and I speak Spanish, which is pretty close to Italian, right?" the babysitter-Bella-burst, leaning down to Lovina's eye level with an unnerving and eerily cat-like grin.

Nonno laughed heartily, patting his grand-daughter's auburn hair rather roughly as if saying, 'You better keep your language PG or else no tomatoes all this week!'

"They are pretty close, but don't worry, Lovina here knows some Spanish!" Romulus beamed, pushing the ten-year older forward despite her surprised squawk of protest. "Go ahead, little one, say something in Spanish!"

Lovina was about to curse at her stupid Nonno and tell him Spanish was dumb anyways when she found herself practically nose-to-nose with an extremely friendly (and extremely pretty) Belgian. The poor Italian's heart made an almost audible thud against her ribcage as she became enraptured in chartreuse eyes only a shade lighter than her own.

"Go ahead and say something, cutie," Bella encouraged, clasping her hands together like a patient school teacher as the child before her flushed deeply.

Lovina's brain was buzzing with the sudden rush of blood to her face as she squeaked something inaudible, ducking her head in embarrassment. The babysitter leaned in closer, cupping her ear with a quick, "Come again?"

Lovina breathed in deeply through her nostrils, summoning up a courage that was quite rare for an Italian.

"D-dame un beso..."

The Belgian blinked her eyes in surprise as Feliciana looked on dumbly from the side. Before Romulus could chuckle at his grand-daughter's naivety, the blushing Italian, acting on her newly-found reservoir of courage, yanked on Bella's skirt, shouting, "Dame un beso! Beso, beso, beso!"

"Whoa! Sorry, sorry, it must be her Italian genes coming out," Romulus laughed, almost proudly, grabbing the girl's collar and dragging her away from the babysitter. But before he could lightheartedly scold the auburnette further, Bella raised her hand to interject.

"Oh, no, it's quite okay!" the blonde exclaimed, crouching down to properly examine the fifth-grader. "Cutie, if you really want to kiss me you can! Just lay a peck right here," Bella tapped her cheek with one slim, manicured finger.

Oh, shit.

All that courage Lovina had mustered up a minute before? Yeah, it just fucking skyrocketed out of the proverbial window.

The Italian blinked wide, petrified eyes before squealing in shock. Before the others could comprehend what was about to happen, Lovina headbutted her way past Romulus and made a mad dash upstairs, vowing that she would never, _ever_ speak Spanish again.

-time skip-

"Oh, Lovi~!" came the rather mischevious voice of Lovina's best friend Bella from down the hall. It was the Vargas girls' first day of high school, and their former babysitter, already a senior, had been waiting for them anxiously to arrive. "Aha, welcome to high school, my charges!" she greeted, nuzzling each of the twins' faces as she bear-hugged them.

"For the last time, you damn Banshee, we are _not_ your charges!" the eldest Italian screamed in response (which in Lovina-language meant something along the lines of, 'Hello, Bella! I missed you, too!'), ripping free from the Belgian's suffocating embrace.

"Bella, Bella, do you like my dress?" Feliciana suddenly bubbled, twirling about in her clover-colored sundress and giving the boys behind her a nice flash of lace panties. One blonde German boy slapped a hand across his rather mortified expression and promptly marched off towards the restroom.

"You look absolutely darling, Feli!" Bella approved whilst surreptitiously tugging the Italian's dress a little lower down her thighs. "Just don't turn like that anymore or you might, er, trip."

"Ve, okay! Can you braid my hair for me before first period starts?"

"Of course, of course! Oh, how are your vocal lessons going, Lovina?" the blonde asked as the trio made their way to an available table in the commons area.

The Italian scowled, crossing her arms with a small harumph. "Shitty, as always. That hag is so tone deaf she could make your brother's singing sound somewhat acceptable. And all she ever let's me sing is old lady shit, like Barbra Streisand. A total waste of my time and money."

Bella frowned in the midst of braiding Feliciana's thick copper curls, pondering for a second.

"Well, why don't you quit the lessons and start a band or something? I mean, Feli can play the electric piano and you can sing, so why not?" she offered, tossing blonde bangs to the side as she met Lovina's steady stare. The auburnette couldn't help but blush.

"D-dumbass, you can't start a band with just a piano and some vocals. Che!"

There was a thoughtful hum. "True. I can play drums, but we'd need a guitarist for sure. Feli, can you hand me a ponytail?"

"Ve, a band sounds really fun though! We could have a cool name like...Hasta La Pasta!" the green-clad Italian blurted out as she kicked her legs in the chair childishly.

"Idiota! We just said that a band can't happen without a guitarist!"

"Well, didn't your quiet friend play guitar with her brother during music class last year? What was her name, ve? Mandy, Mallorie...?" Felciana mumbled as she snapped her fingers in an attempt to jog her memory.

"It's M-M-Madeline, eh?" came a whispery voice from beside the group as a tiny girl with blonde twintails suddenly appeared, bangs pulled back in twin maple-leaf clips.

"Holy mother of shit, Maddie! Try not to scare the fuck out of me with your invisibility shit, capische?" Lovina screeched, clutching at her heart as though it might try to escape any second. "And why aren't you wearing the outfit I chose for you yesterday, huh?"

Before the Canuck had a chance to explain, Bella clapped her hands excitedly.

"Aha, this is perfect~! Now we can definitely start a band, right Lovina?" the senior piped, lunging forward to seize the Italian's free arm in a crushing grip. Madeline cast an unimpressed look at the blushing Italian as if to say, 'Really, you have a crush on _her_?'

Yes, yes, ever since she was small Lovina had harbored _some_ romantic feelings toward her babysitter. Didn't mean Madeline had to make it so goddamn obvious!

"G-get off of me, you coddling freak!" Lovina threatened whilst shooting the Canadian a glare that clearly read, 'Shut the fuck up, or you'll wake up with Kumajirou's decapitated head beside you, Maple Bitch.' "And we just started high school, I don't think we can juggle a band as well!"

"But please, Lovi? It would be so fun!" the Belgian begged, drawing out the please for an unnecessary amount of time. Feliciana, catching on to Bella's tactic, soon attacked her sister's free arm and began her own spew of pleas.

"Ve, sorella, please? It could be like a hobby! And you can sing all the non-Barbra-Streisand songs you want!"

And thus started a good five minutes of whiny begging from both sides of her body. Lovina looked to Madeline for help, seeing as the two attackers had become immune to her generally empty threats.

"Just say yes already, eh?" the Canuck instructed, slightly amused when Lovina finally ripped her arms free from both beggars and shouted, "FINE, YES, GODDAMN IT, YES!"

Her loud outburst had garnered the attentions of several passerbys. Lovina ducked her head, muttering an, "I fucking hate you guys," before stalking off to first period.

-time skip-

Today was the day. Today was the day Lovina would finally tell Bella her true feelings! The twins' freshman year was almost over and Bella was about to graduate (thank God she had made plans to attend a local university so there wouldn't be any teary goodbyes at the end of the month).

She ran the straightener over her hair again, making sure every strand was absolutely perfect. The Italian had donned a flowing navy blue tank top and white shorts that made her legs look incredibly tan. She had been up since five in the morning (on a Saturday for Christ's sake!) shaving her legs, applying lotion, and even going the extra mile by whipping out the mascara. There could be no room for error!

Lovina hiked up her push-up bra for the third time while ruffling her hair to make it look more natural. Though there was no doubt she looked drop-dead gorgeous, it still felt as though her heart might drop out her rear end at any minute. God, now she knew how boys felt when they popped the question.

N-not like she was popping the question or anything, dammit! She was simply confessing to her best friend. Her best friend who just _happened_ to be a girl. No big deal, right?

Right?

Right.

Sucking in a deep breath, Lovina turned towards the door with a wavering, but still present, confidence. A series of honks sounded from outside, signaling that Bella was already in the driveway, probably applying her favorite strawberry-banana lipgloss. Unless she had been extra daring today and decided to finally try that chocolate-flavored lip balm she'd been coveting in her Vera Bradley wallet for special occassions.

Damn, Lovina knew way too much about Bella's personal life.

Racing down the steps two at a time, the Italian barked a quick farewell to Nonno and his lady-friend before halting at the hallway mirror. Pushing at her errant curl in one last fruitless attempt to smooth it back, Lovina braced her shoulders and prepared to lay her heart on the table. Before reality had a chance to sink in, the auburnette yanked open the door, marched outside, and...

Completely lost her nerve upon seeing Bella's pretty little mouth flash that cat-like grin.

"Hey, cutie! _Damn_, you look smoking hot!" the blonde appraised, unlocking the Volvo doors so that Lovina could slide in (as nervous as ever). Green eyes raked over her friend's appearance. "Now really, what's the occassion?"

Lovina crossed her arms and turned away, partway flattered and partway petrified. "Hmph, who says there has to be an occassion for me to look incredibly sexy? Now let's go, I'm starved!"

Bella raised an eyebrow, her lips extra glossy (seems like she went with strawberry-banana today), but shifted gears anyways.

Whoo, Lovina-1, Nerves-0!

After they had arrived at the cafe, conversation had steered towards familiar ground. Namely Ludwig Beilschmidt's sudden interest in Feliciana (damn that kraut!). And the band, of course.

The waiter had just brought them a heaping banana-split sundae to share as desert when Lovina decided it was time. Where was a mirror when a girl needed one?

"Look, Bels, I-" the Italian started, eyes already averted to some chip in the wooden tabletop as her sweaty hands wrung the hem of her navy shirt.

"Wait," Bella interrupted, setting down her spoon with a finality that startled Lovina, who remained silent so that the blonde could speak.

"Look, I've been trying to keep this in all day, but I just can't."

The auburnette swallowed audibly. Maybe, just maybe, Bella returned the feelings. I mean, it was a well-known fact that the Belgian batted for the other team. So maybe what she had to say was just what Lovina needed to hear.

"Lovi...Lovina. I-"

A breathy inhalation.

"-have been accepted to the Univeristy of Landa. They gave me scholarships because they really liked my fashion designs. Isn't that great?"

It felt like Lovina had just been punched hard in the gut. Her lungs felt starved of oxygen.

Bella was leaving the state? Not just the county but the fucking state?

"I know it's farther than we had anticipated, but it's such a great opportunity! I can't just pass it up."

Of course she couldn't. Landa was her dream school.

"And I'm really sorry we can't keep the band together, but you guys will find another drummer. Don't worry!"

Who cares about the band right now? Bella was leaving for years on end. Lovina would only see her on holidays, _maybe_. The band should be the least of anyone's worries right now.

"-vina? Lovina?" Bella was muttering, waving a hand before the spaced-out Italian with something akin to concern. "What do you think of all this?"

Now the hardest part; lying.

She painted on a false smile.

"B-Bels, that's great! Fantastic, really! I'm so proud of you!" Lovina cheered, spewing fake congratulations as she hugged her friend from across the table. The blonde seemed relieved almost.

When they parted, Bella was beaming, glad to have support from her best friend. Suddenly, her mouth formed a small 'o'.

"Oh, Lovi, was there something you wanted to say before I interrupted?"

The auburnette gritted her teeth.

_Lie. Just lie._

"N-nothing. I forgot. Let's go tell Feliciana the great news, okay?"

* * *

><p><strong>PRESENT<strong>

"...who exactly did you write that for?" Antonio asked pleasantly, pasting on his usual too-cheery smile though his eyes screamed something entirely different. Anyone who was true friends with the Spaniard knew he was the extremely jealous type.

"Why does it matter, bastardo? It's just some dumbass song I wrote when I was, what, a freshman?" Lovina replied, limping towards a seat so that she could rest her bum ankle. "It doesn't mean anything anyways. The person I wrote it for doesn't live here anymore."

"Can't you just give me a name?" Antonio pleaded, jutting out his lower lip ever-so-slightly. _So I can beat the living shit out of him._

"No way, asshat! Leave me alone!"

"Oh, she's coming back on the eve of Halloween just to see our big gig! Maybe you can meet her then, Big Brother 'Tonio!" Feliciana cried excitedly, clapping her hands together as if just remembering something. Madeline facepalmed as the boys in the room gaped in shock.

"SHE?" came the expected outburst as Lovina, despite being an invalid, turned sharply on her heel and tackled her twin to the floor.

"You're dead, Feliciana, DEAD!" the elder twin cried as she strangled the girl beneath her.

"I c-c-can't breathe, sorella!"

"GOOD, BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO _DIE_!"

"Lovina, for heaven's sake, cut the poor lass some slack!" Alice cried, elbowing her way into the mesh of Italian appendages as she tried to free Feliciana's windpipe. "The girl's got the common sense of an earthworm! You couldn't have possibly expected her to stay quiet!"

"Mon lapin, I do not know if you are making things better or worse," Francis pointed out as Lovina began to bite at her sister's thigh.

"Oh, shove it, you frog!"

"I love you, too~!"

"Dude!" Alfred screamed finally, yanking Lovina to a standing position by the collar of her shirt and expertly avoiding her swinging fists. "The cat's outta the bag or whatever, so just spill the beans!"

"Yeah, Lovina, it might be best if you just told them...eh." Madeline suggested, gently calming the Italian down so that her fists weren't flying at the speed of light.

"The hell? I'm not saying _anything_. If they want to know so bad, you tell them, Maple Bitch!"

Suddenly, all eyes were on Madeline.

"Maple...okay, okay. Her name was Bella and she recently moved out-of-state for college. Lovina had a crush on her for a few years. That's _it_. There was no kissing, no making out, none of that lesbian stuff I'm sure you guys are probably imagining right now."

Suddenly, a reddening Italian smacked her upside the head.

"_Fuck_, Madeline! I didn't think you'd actually tell them! Of all the times for you to grow some balls," Lovina exclaimed, mortified. Then she noticed Antonio's steady gaze. "And what are you still staring at, Tomato Bastard?"

"You're only a bisexual, right, Lovi? Not a full-blown...well, you know," he asked, terrified of the answer. I mean, it would be ridiculously hot for Lovina to engage in some girl-on-girl action but he couldn't marry her if she was a lesbian! And he already had the chapel picked out and everything!

"The fuck? No, I'm not a full-blown lesbian, dumbass. Unless you're a girl or something, bastard,"

Suddenly, Lovina froze, finally understanding the longevity of her statement and regretting it.

Antonio's eyes looked so hopeful that he put ASPCA animals to shame.

"Does that mean you like me, Lovi~? As more than a friend?" he asked, voice more hopeful than his eyes, if that was even possible.

There was a long moment of silence before Lovina turned to her twin and growled, "You are fucking dead to me." Antonio merely took that as a 'Yes,' and proceeded to glomp his precious tomato despite her vicious counterattacks.

* * *

><p>The girls had retired to Madeline's room, claiming they were tired even though it was only 11 at night; everybody knew they really just wanted to gossip and, in Lovina's case, avoid certain tomato-loving Spaniards.<p>

Antonio, on the other hand, had never taken hints very well. He was currently lounging in the Jones-Williams living room, barely watching the masculine dick-flick Gilbert had shoveled out from the back of Alfred's DVD case. Instead, he was day-dreaming about his next date (yes, he was banking on more, even if it killed both him and his wallet) with the apparently bi-sexual object of his affections.

Maybe the park next. Yes, with a checkered blanket and picnic basket and-

Oh, wait. This was Lovina he was talking about! No mushy stuff.

Okay, okay, new plan! He would buy two magnifying glasses and they could terrorize anthills together! She, being the "devil incarnate" (Gilbert's words, not his), would surely enjoy a romantic session of burning ants to death, right?

"-io? Yo, Toni!" Gilbert hollered, smacking the Spaniard upside the head as the television was muted.

"Hmm? Yes, Gilberto?" Antonio asked innocently, cocking his head to the side for good measure.

"You thinking about that PMS-ing bitch?" the albino asked before taking a swig of beer that he had magically procured from thin air. Now it was his turn to be smacked upside the head. "Fuck!"

"Don't call her that, amigo. And yes, I'm coming up with ideas for our next date!"

"So you're hitting that, Antonio?" Alfred questioned from his supine position on the recliner, nibbling on what looked like a Twizzler.

"Yeah, you sure she wouldn't rather be dating an Antoni_a_ instead of an Antoni_o_? Kesesese-ow, stop fucking hitting me!" Gilbert complained, clutching his head in annoyance just as there was a chorus of laughter from upstairs.

"Wonder what the fuck they're laughin' at," the albino mumbled, his curiosity piqued and pale eyebrow arched.

"Probably your pasty white skin, mon ami," Francis grinned cheekily, the stubble on his cheeks and chin making him look about five years older.

"Hey! Screw you, Frenchie!"

"For your date-" Alfred spoke up then, sitting up with a spoon of ice cream dangling from his mouth (where the hell was he getting the sweets from?). "-why not take her to the karaoke bar? Her and Mads used to go there all the time!"

Antonio pondered the suggestion for a moment before grinning in approval.

"That's a great idea, amigo! I think I wi-" Suddenly, Gilbert pushed himself up and shook his empty beer bottle for emphasis.

"Oi, I need more booze so I'm heading to my car real quick. I've got a crate in there, you guys want some?" the albino asked, already halfway out of the living room as a cacophony of assents followed him. Leaving the three to discuss Toni's upcoming date (God, what pansy asses!), Gilbert passed by the garage door when he heard a few piano keys being played. Curious, he popped his head in only to see the cutest sight he'd ever beared witness to.

There was Madeline, clad in white, mid-thigh pajama shorts and a long-sleeved top the same navy color as his own shirt. Her hair had been released from the normal twin-tails and instead trailed down in pale blonde ringlets to her mid-back. Clutched against her chest with one hand was a gigantic polar bear plushie while her free fingers played random notes on a small, stationary piano.

Gilbert cracked a grin, subconsciously finger-combed his hair, and strutted into the room.

"Yo, Birdie!" he called, raising one hand in greeting as he sauntered over to the piano. The poor Canadian jumped nearly a foot into the air with an adorable squeak largely reminiscent of a petrified mouse. God, how Gilbert wished he could make that squeak his ring tone!

"G-Gilbert! What are you doing here?" she asked, voice barely audible as she raised the polar bear over her mouth in a fit of shyness. He ruffled her loose hair in a friendly manner, causing the girl to blush. Really, she was too cute for her own good.

"I just heard your awesome playing and decided to come check it out. Shouldn't you be upstairs with the rest of the girls?" he replied, sitting on the piano bench and gesturing for her to do the same. Tentatively, she did so, lowering her defenses slightly.

"Ah, Lovina needed our sheet music and I volunteered to grab it since both she and Alice were too lazy. And, well, Feliciana was too scared to come down here alone. But I guess I got a b-bit distracted..."

"Well, do you think they'll miss you for the next five minutes?" the Prussian grinned, absentmindedly tapping some keys as he tried to lock eyes with his companion.

"What? I don't think so, why?" Madeline muttered, sitting Kumajirou to the side and finally meeting Gilbert's burning red gaze. His grin widened.

"'Cause I want to hear you play something, of course!"

The girl faltered, anxiety returning.

"I d-don't know...I'm a little nervous," the blonde admitted quietly but readied her fingers on the piano anyways. She was really itching to play and having an audience didn't seem entirely disagreeable. She usually didn't get to play the piano when _Canta Che Ti Passa_ was practicing because they primarily had her strumming guitar.

"Don't be, Birdie! Just pretend I'm not here!" Gilbert advised, leaning back on his hands in an act of leisure. "And it's not like I haven't heard you sing before!"

The Canuck paused, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion, unaware that the Bad Touch Trio had spied on her band on more than one occasion.

"Wait, when have you ever heard me sin-?"

"Hehe, forget it, Birdie! Just play!"

"...o-okay..."

[A/N: Youtube. Type in _The A Team_ by Birdy. (Ironic name, right?) Play.]

**"White lips, pale face**  
><strong>Breathing in snowflakes<strong>  
><strong>Burnt lungs, sour taste<strong>  
><strong>Light's gone, day's end<strong>  
><strong>Struggling to pay rent<strong>  
><strong>Long nights, strange men<strong>

**And they say**  
><strong>She's in the Class A Team<strong>  
><strong>Stuck in her daydream<strong>  
><strong>Been this way since 18<strong>  
><strong>But lately her face seems<strong>  
><strong>Slowly sinking, wasting<strong>  
><strong>Crumbling like pastries<strong>  
><strong>And they scream<strong>  
><strong>The worst things in life come free to us<strong>  
><strong>'Cause we're just under the upperhand<strong>  
><strong>And go mad for a couple grams<strong>  
><strong>But she don't want to go outside tonight<strong>  
><strong>And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland<strong>  
><strong>Or sells love to another man<strong>  
><strong>It's too cold outside<strong>  
><strong>For angels to fly<strong>  
><strong>Angels to fly<strong>

**Ripped gloves, raincoat**  
><strong>Tried to swim and stay afloat<strong>  
><strong>Dry house, wet clothes<strong>  
><strong>Loose change, bank notes<strong>  
><strong>Weary-eyed, dry throat<strong>  
><strong>Cool girl, no phone<strong>

**And they say**  
><strong>She's in the Class A Team<strong>  
><strong>Stuck in her daydream<strong>  
><strong>Been this way since 18<strong>  
><strong>But lately her face seems<strong>  
><strong>Slowly sinking, wasting<strong>  
><strong>Crumbling like pastries<strong>  
><strong>And they scream<strong>  
><strong>The worst things in life come free to us<strong>  
><strong>'Cause we're just under the upperhand<strong>  
><strong>And go mad for a couple grams<strong>  
><strong>But she don't want to go outside tonight<strong>  
><strong>And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland<strong>  
><strong>Or sells love to another man<strong>  
><strong>It's too cold outside<strong>  
><strong>For angels to fly<strong>  
><strong>Angels to fly<strong>  
><strong>Oooh, oooh<strong>

**And they say**  
><strong>She's in the Class A Team<strong>  
><strong>Stuck in her daydream<strong>  
><strong>Been this way since 18<strong>  
><strong>But lately her face seems<strong>  
><strong>Slowly sinking, wasting<strong>  
><strong>Crumbling like pastries<strong>  
><strong>And they scream<strong>  
><strong>The worst things in life come free to us<strong>  
><strong>'Cause we're just under the upperhand<strong>  
><strong>Go mad for a couple grams<strong>  
><strong>And she don't want to go outside tonight<strong>  
><strong>And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland<strong>  
><strong>Or sells love to another man<strong>  
><strong>It's too cold outside<strong>  
><strong>For angels to fly<strong>  
><strong>For angels to fly<strong>  
><strong>To fly<strong>  
><strong>For Angels to die."<strong>

Gilbert stared in awe during the entire performance, completely entranced as he subconsciously realized two things. One: This was the girl he would fall in love with, if he hadn't already.

She would be the "dressed-up doll" he had always dreamed of taking to prom; her dressed in soft colors like powder blue or, better yet, lavender to match her eyes, and him wearing a matching tie. On her wrist he'd slip on a full corsage of lilacs or forget-me-nots or maybe even lilies, though the latter might cause him to consequently break into a rash. They would sway to some sappy slow-song while poking fun at Antonio and Lovina (who would be awkwardly shuffling about in some makeshift form of dancing beside them) in low tones, kissing on occasion. Then afterwards he'd drag her to the lake or some other romantic place; she'd be too proper to let him go past second base, but, hey, that was good enough for him.

She would be the girl who he would nervously ask one night over some French-Canadian dinner, "Hey, f-feel free to say no or whatever, but I think it would be pretty awesome if you, uh, moved in with me...? J-Just a suggestion!" And then she'd blush bright red before jokingly saying, "Only if you get consent from Alfred."

She would be the blushing bride who he'd wait patiently for at the end of an excruciatingly long aisle. Francis and Antonio would be grinning softly at him in their best-man suits while Alfred would begrudgingly stand on the side as a reluctant groomsman (Maddie's suggestion). Lovina and Alice, despite their ever present scowls, would be sporting tiny smiles, aimed more at the bride-to-be than the albino, but whatever. And Birdie...she would be gorgeous. Painstakingly so. With a white dress shipped in from the finest designer in France (thanks to Francis' never-ending connections in the fashion industry) and a bouquet of some pale purple flowers, she'd make his breath hitch like some lovesick teenager. And her vows would be exactly like her: delicate, endearing, and sweet. And his would be full of the word awesome.

She would be the tiny stay-at-home writer who he'd kiss every morning before work and every evening when he returned. They'd buy a tiny, _awesome_ house with a dog and a white picket fence and all that other Hallmark movie shit she might possibly want.

And maybe, just maybe she would be the mother of future Beilschmidt's. Two boys and one girl. She'd be nervously avoiding him after realizing that she was, indeed, pregnant, the pink plus on her pee stick burning holes in her mind before she finally blurted the truth out. He'd sweep her up into his arms, cheering at the top of his lungs as he spun her around and ordered Gilbird to call the other Bad Touch Trio members. And nine months later, a Wilhelm or a Fritz or a Marianne would be born! With Maddie's physical traits and Gilbert's genetic awesomeness, of course!

Yes, this was the girl he would fall in love with, if he had not already.

The second thing he realized was that their entire future, him and Madeline's, relied on a first step.

So that's why when Madeline's fingers left the piano and she turned to look at him expectantly, Gilbert grabbed the sides of her soft face in his large, rough hands, calloused from years of guitar, and brought it to his mouth. In one swift movement, he connected their lips, delighting in the growing warmth beneath his sweating palms as the Canadian blushed a thousand shades of red. Her violet eyes stared at the Prussian's closed eyelids before, too fluttering shut as Gilbert smiled into her mouth, heart jumping into his throat when he felt the kiss reciprocated.

When they parted for breath, Madeline looked completely frazzled, unsure of what had just occurred. Gilbert, on the other hand, smiled like an idiot.

Finally, with a confidence he had never felt before (and that's saying something considering it is Gilbert Beilschmidt we are talking about), he spoke.

"Go on a legitimate date with me, Birdie."


	9. Chapter 9: Francis Gets Feelings

**[Summary from previous chapters: The Bad Touch Trio members are all pursuing someone from the band and decide it'd be fun to crash their sleepover at the Jones-Williams house. A game of triple dog occurs, in which we see Feliciana seduce Ludwig and Madeline enjoy the art of lap-dancing. When Lovina refuses to do her dare, however, she has to streak down the street; needless to say, this ends horribly when she trips, sprains her ankle, and has to have Antonio carry her back to the house where they unfortunately run into the Vargas' grandfather...awkward. The teens go inside then and Madeline and Gilbo have a moment~! She plays him a beautiful piano piece and he swoons like a little girl, finally working up the courage to ask her on a date.]**

Madeline Williams generally had the patience of a saint. After all, she'd spent eleven years of her life crammed in the same rickety bunk bed as Alfred F. Jones-the F standing for "Fucking annoying" in Lovina's opinion-and for a majority of those years he had wet the bed (which to this day he still blamed on his imaginary alien friend, Tony). It is of little surprise then that over the years she'd developed an immunity to all things obnoxious, loud, or rude, explaining how she had maintained a close, somewhat healthy relationship with the school's resident spitfires (aka Lovina, Alice, and now the ever-popular Gilbert Beilschmidt). However, her powers of patience were not infinite and Alfred, the boy who had ironically been the reason Maddie adopted a tolerant nature in the first place, was pushing her to the brink.

Gilbert, his hands still cradling Maddie's freshly kissed and clearly bewildered face, had just asked her on a date. Maddie, though blushing an unattractive shade of pumice and wondering if the albino's pinky finger could feel her thrumming pulse from its position on her neck, had been about to stutter a surprised 'yes'. And Alfred, watching with his eyes bulging and mouth agape from the garage doorway, had just shit a brick.

"**Oh, fucking hell to the no!**" came his booming voice. Within seconds, a blur of red, white, and blonde had knocked Gilbert from his position on the piano bench and into the microphone stand. There was a momentary tussle on the floor before the albino found his shoulders pinned beneath the pajama-clad knees of Madeline's brother.

Ho, shit.

"Keep your dirty wurst away from my sister's Canadian beaver!" Alfred roared, pulling an arm back to pummel the German into the ground. Nobody touched his baby sis, especially not some perverted Nazi bastard!

"Her Canadian what-?"

"ALFRED!" Madeline squealed in embarrassment, face on fire as she caught her brother's bicep just in time. He easily yanked her forward but she was quick enough to hook the crook of her elbows under his armpits in a pseudo-headlock. Even though she was using all of her upper body strength (which, admittedly, wasn't much) to restrain the American, she knew he would break free from her hold in a matter of minutes. And then Gilbert's face would be redder than his eyes.

"Let go of me, Maddie! I've got to teach this rapist a lesson!"

"The fuck, man? All I did was kiss her! Last time I checked, a consensual kiss wasn't an act of rape, moron!"

"What did you call me, you little-?"

Madeline couldn't listen anymore. She was too preoccupied reigning in the school's leading quarterback to focus on a petty verbal squabble.

God, what could she do? Gilbert was practically useless under Alfred's body weight and the other Trio members would probably get the shit beat out of them as well if she called them down. Who could take down a 6'1 American football star-?

Oh.

Oh, yes. She knew exactly who.

"ALICE! ALICE, HELP!" Madeline screeched at the top of her lungs, causing a loud thump to sound from upstairs as someone slammed open a door. Alfred noticeably stilled in her arms.

Suddenly, a frazzled punk appeared in the doorway, waist-length hair no longer in twin pigtails but instead twisted into a half-finished braid down her back (Feliciana had probably been in the middle of braiding her hair when Maddie had screamed bloody murder). She wore a billowy black tank with John Lennon's face across the front and a pair of gray sweats. Her black nails were chipped and three piercings (two small hoops in the lobe and one stud in the cartilage) decorated her left ear. Acidic green eyes raked over the scene in front of her before finally honing in on the eerily silent American.

"Alfred Franklin Jones. What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" she growled, stepping into the room with the countenance of an angry mother, hands on her hips and all. Alfred cracked a shaky smile, flashing his white teeth as he turned to face his furious crush.

"Heeeyyyyy, Iggy," he drawled, slowly standing upright as though any sudden movements might cause the Briton to spontaneously combust. He glanced quickly towards Maddie with a pout that clearly read, "You suck."

"Don't call me that wretched nickname, git. Explain why you were harassing Gilbert and Madeline."

While Alfred tried to explain how he was merely _deflecting_ Maddie's innocence from Gilbert's whore-suckling lips, the Canadian rushed to the albino's aid. He pushed away her jittery hands, assuring her that "awesome did not bruise easily" although "a few Canadian kisses couldn't hurt". The blonde had laughed airily in response, hugging Kumajojo tightly to her chest with her left arm.

As Alice started to pinch Alfred's cheek in aggravation, berating that he needed to "leave people alone and, for the Queen's sake, speak English properly", Gilbert helped Maddie to her feet. The Prussian opened his mouth uncertainly, as if to say something, but Madeline beat him to the punch.

"Yes."

The senior blinked. "Huh?"

"My answer t-to your earlier question is yes." With her twin preoccupied, the Canadian leaned in and pecked the white-haired boy on the cheek.

Gilbert smiled like a fool.

-line-

When Francis was younger, maybe seven years old, he had the most glorious hair in his entire elementary school. Teachers would constantly pet his pretty blonde head and comment on what a "little prince charming" he had become, to which he would simply smirk and give a short "merci beaucoup". And what wasn't charming about him? He was the epitome of chivalrous, always holding doors open for the teachers and bestowing long-stemmed roses from his garden to all the second-grade girls. He wore expensive clothes and only ate the eloquent lunches his mother packed for him each day, refusing to so much as look at the "sniveling excuse for food" the cafeteria served. He was well-mannered and sharply dressed; he spoke perfect French and could flash a smile so romantically coy even innocent Lili Zwingli would blush; though he disliked running because it ruffled his gorgeous hair and left his clothes less than pristine, he could outrun anyone in the grade thanks to his long, elegant legs. Needless to say, everyone adored Francis.

Well, almost everyone.

Alice Kirkland, the ruddy-nosed brat from Manchester, England, had somehow eluded his charms. She was quite short for her age, with pale freckles dotting her dainty, cat-like nose and a miserable little pout that made her look like she was on the verge of snapping your neck. She had four or five older brothers (Francis could never keep count nor did he want to; the Kirkland brothers were all uncivilized ruffians in his opinion) and was often dressed in their too-big hand-me-downs. And to top it all off, her dirty blonde hair was tangled, unruly, and forever the bane of Francis' existence.

Alice never had many friends, partly because of her homely, unkempt appearance and partly because of her strange obsession with the occult. During recess, she generally nestled herself in a grove of trees on the edge of the playground, drawing shaky pentograms in the dirt and muttering spooky rhymes under her breath. She was always by herself, mumbling to imaginary creatures at lunch as she ate some ghastly concoction called scones (the other students were positive that they were poisonous). Every time Francis cast the strange girl a flirtacious smirk, she would merely stare him down with her electric green eyes and start muttering creepy spells beneath her breath. The Frenchman didn't think someone as horrendous as Alice Kirkland would ever make friends.

One day, Francis' best friend Antonio (their other best friend, Gilbert, had detention that particular recess) purposely sent a soccer ball flying into the fence surrounding the playground. Francis, who had been purring French to a group of starry-eyed girls on the sidelines, had been nominated to retrieve it. Huffing in exasperation, the blonde had trudged over to the ball, picking it up and punting it in Toni's general direction.

That was when he heard the sniffling.

He could distinctly make out the muffled sobs of a child from the grove of trees to his right. Seeing as the girls he'd been sweet-talking earlier were preoccupied by Antonio's flashy soccer tricks (that little showoff), Francis decided to investigate. Sticking his glorious blonde head between the boughs of a nearby tree, the second-grader was surprised to find the last person in the world he ever expected to see crying in public.

In the middle of the grove crouched Alice Kirkland, arms wrapped around her calves as she cried into the tops of her knees. She wore an over-sized grey shirt and a...was that a kilt? Either way, it was horrendous and practically swallowed the tiny Briton up.

"Oh, Flying Mint Bunny...you don't think I'm ugly, do you?" she choked out then, watery green eyes staring upwards at an imaginary creature that Francis most definitely could not see. He noticed up close that, apart from her tremendous eyebrows, she actually possessed a rather pretty face; more than pretty, actually. How had he never kissed that smooth cheek before?

"The other girls told me I look like a boy. N-Not that I care or anything! They're all twats anyways!" Here she wiped her nose on the enormous sleeve of her shirt. Francis leaned in closer. "It's just...I've been here for six months already and I haven't m-made any friends. Everyone treats me bad. Nobody even wished me a happy birthday last week!"

Big, fat crocodile tears had started to slip down her cheeks. She rubbed them into her knees but couldn't stop her lower lip from trembling.

"I-It was on the class c-c-calendar and everything, but no one said a word! Not even Ms. Kathryn!"

Francis was feeling rather guilty as the first-grader began to whimper pathetically. Sure, she was creepy and rude but she was still just a child. He couldn't help himself then; he had to make his presence known and help her.

Pretending as if he'd just stumbled upon the grove, Francis feigned confusion, scratching the back of his blonde head as he glanced around the area.

"Now, where could that ball have gone?" the Frenchman pondered loudly, causing Alice to jerk her head up quickly and stare wide-eyed at him. He glanced down at her, taking a step back as if she'd startled him. "Oh, I did not see you there, _chou!_"

"Wha-what are you doing back here, frog?" the Brit squeaked, rubbing the tears from her eyes with the heels of her palms. No way would she let this slimy French idiot see her cry.

"Oh, little Alice, you offend me so!" he cried dramatically, clutching the fabric over his heart. "I just came back here to find a soccer ball, is all."

"Well, it's not back here so go away!"

Francis tutted. "How rude. Ah," he frowned, fingering some of the girl's long blonde hair as he quickly removed a pine needle. "You have leaves in your hair, _mon cher_. Little ladies should not be crawling around in the bushes."

Alice shoved his hand away, shooting him a wary glare as her eyes began to fill with tears again.

"Sh-shut up. It's not like some stupid leaves matter. My hair would look ugly anyways," she mumbled, avoiding his shocked blue eyes as she cradled her long yellow locks. Flying Mint Bunny was fluttering in circles around her head obnoxiously and had she not been so embarrassed, she might have shooed him away.

"Your hair is not ugly, _mon cher_. In fact, it would look very pretty if you would only brush it." At this, the Frenchman snapped his fingers with a small, "Aha!" and magically produced a comb from his cape pocket. Alice just stared at him in bewilderment, blushing from his comment. Did he really think her hair was pretty? Or was that just one of his perverted pick-up lines?

"Would you mind?" he asked, gesturing to the comb as he plopped down behind her.

"Do you always carry brushes in your pocket, idiot?" she muttered, making sure to look at anything but him; she didn't protest as he tentatively ran the comb through her hair. "And I'm not letting you do this because I need the help or anything! Any idiot can brush hair! It's just I...I'm too tired to get the leaves out right now! That's all!" Secretly, she really liked having her hair brushed and having it done by Francis Bonnefoy, aka the school's hair guru, might just mean she'd be coming out of the grove somewhat presentable-looking.

Francis merely hummed in acknowlegdement to her rant, yanking at the left side of Alice's head as he scooped her hair into one hand. For a while, they both remained uncharacteristically quiet as the Frenchman tied the girl's hair into two high pigtails with rubber bands he kept around his wrist (if ever he did play sports during recess, he liked to have his hair pulled back, so the bands did come in handy). He would tie her hair up and then take it down, muttering something about how it had to be "absolutely flawless before he could grant his seal of French approval". Finally, after numerous attempts, Francis had managed to work out all the knots in the Briton's waist-length hair and tie it into perfectly level pigtails.

"_Magnifique_!" he cried out in French, tucking a few strands of stray yellow hair behind the girl's ear. Alice reached backwards and felt her head, grunting in some mock-form of approval.

"I better not look stupid, Frenchie," she growled but with much less bite than Francis was used to. He grinned, knowing that it was the closest to a thanks he was going to get.

"Ohonhonhon~! You look like a little bunny with two floppy ears!" he exclaimed, picking up one of her long pigtails as he said the words 'floppy ears'. Alice blushed.

"I-I do not look like a bunny!" she spluttered, crossing her arms indignantly across her chest as she jutted her nose into the air. At the moment, she looked like a stuck-up little princess; Francis was still adamant in the opinion that she more closely resembled a rabbit.

"A little British bunny-"

"Shut up."

"-with humongous, fluffy eyebrows!"

"I will kill you."

"Oh, I think I will call you 'mon lapin' from now on!"

"Don't you even dare..."

"...what was that, _mon lapin_?"

"GAH!"

-line-

* * *

><p>When Francis reached fifth grade (Alice in the grade below him), he started to discover some rather...unconvenient feelings for the stubborn girl. He had a million options to choose from-girls with plump lips, winning personalities, dazzling smiles, you name it-but he could care less. He wanted someone fiery, independent, and intelligent; he wanted someone with a stunning face, endearingly large eyebrows, and sharp, calculating green eyes; he wanted someone who beat him senseless and likewise endured his constant teasing. Perhaps he was a masochist, but he wanted Alice.<p>

Francis was almost sure Alice liked him too, somewhere deep, _deep_ in her subconscious. Ever since that day he found her crying on the playground, she had worn her hair in the same high pigtails, almost as if she was daring Francis to call her a rabbit again. He always did, and she always smacked his shoulder in turn until soon it became their customary greeting. During recess, she would still do her summonings in the grove and Francis would still tell elaborate, mainly false stories to the admiring girls in his grade; however, sometimes when the French boy could sneak away, he would creep up on his pigtailed playmate and scare her senseless. She would scream and sic some demonic creature on him (ironically, the first time she cursed him, Ivan Braginskaya moved into school the next day and stuck gum in Francis' hair,) but he would yank her pigtail until she hushed up. Indeed, it seemed they could only communicate through petty insults and half-hearted death threats, but neither of them seemed to mind. It was consistent and it was something to look forward to each school day.

Alice eventually made friends with an introverted Japanese girl named Sakura and a bright boy from Hong Kong. However, Francis remained her closest confidant (friend really wasn't a word she could openly apply to him), mainly because he would annoy Alice until she finally (and reluctantly) revealed what was on her mind. She, too, learned several things about the French boy that no one else could possibly know; for example, his father had left him and his mother to fend for themselves about five years ago. He eventually remarried in Monaco and fathered a little girl named Colette; Francis did his best to keep in touch with his half-sister, but it was difficult when she was located on an entirely different continent. Alice also knew that Francis adored peanut butter, could do a backflip, and had the middle name Jean (pronounced Zh-ohn). Even though they were always at each other's throats, they understood each other more than they did any other person.

Thus, Francis knew very well that if he made any romantic advances on Alice, regardless if her feelings were secretly mutual, she would probably kick his ass into the future. So he had to play it cool and stifle any flirtations until he was sure that the moment was right. Unfortunately, Francis was never very good at waiting _or_ playing it cool _or_ stifling his flirtations, especially when Alice approached him one recess of her own accord.

She had sidled up to him, cheeks red, and asked Francis in her little voice if he could push her on the swings ("not because we're friends or anything! I just don't want to kick my legs in a skirt"). The Frenchman had winked and said that he was always willing to help little bunnies in their time of need _if_ they said "s'il vous plait". She had whacked him across the chest and threatened to strangle him with his cape. Francis had shrugged and said, "Close enough".

The duo had been walking towards the swing set, Alice fidgeting with the hem of her skirt all the while, when Francis realized their was some ulterior motive to this friednly trip.

"Is something troubling you, _mon lapin_?" Francis asked, pausing midstep to turn towards the Briton. She was practically wringing her skirt now, her face cast downward as the tips of her ears turned red. "...Alice?"

"Er, well, you see...next week is my birthday and my mum is having the family over and I don't really want to spend the day with my mental relatives so my brothers told me to invite a friend over but I really don't have many friends...so I thought that maybe if I surrounded you with my English relatives you would learn how to finally be a gentleman and I'm not saying this because I actually _want_ you to come, I just want to introduce you to some refinery before you go into middle school and scare all the other students away. So, maybe, would you come over on my birthday? L-Like I said, not because I enjoy the company of a snail-slurper, I just thought it might be a good experience for you, is all..." Alice finally stopped her breathless rant to suck in a deep gulp of air, eyes flickering up to Francis' face only once throughout the entire speech.

Francis looked taken aback, blinking slowly as he tried to comprehend that verbal bombardment. The girl before him scuffed the toe of her shoe against the dirt as she impatiently waited for his answer.

"..._mon lapin_, if you wanted to enjoy my glorious presence you could have just said so!" the fifth-grader finally exclaimed, flashing a cheeky grin as he playfully tugged on the Brit's pigtail.

"I don't enjoy your presence at all, twat!" she squawked, shooing his hand away.

"Hmm...perhaps you just admire my good looks?"

Alice made a dramatic gagging gesture and Francis waggled his eyebrows seductively. She roared in embarrassment, gripping the collar of his shirt between both her fists and shaking him back and forth violently. He yanked harshly on her pigtails until they were literally nose-to-nose, staring each other down and gritting their teeth in identical sneers. It was only when Alice let loose a shaky exhalation that fluttered across his cheek, that Francis became aware of their close proximity. All the emotions he'd been trying to bury over the past few weeks suddenly bubbled to the surface. His heart leaped into his throat and without conscious thought he pressed his lips against the Briton's in a soft, breathy kiss.

She returned the kiss in her own inexperienced way until suddenly Gilbert wolf-whistled from across the playground.

"Woohoo, nice going, Francy pants!" the albino shrieked, causing every other student to look in the direction of his wildly waving finger and thus at Alice's clearly mortified expression as she quickly pulled away. Realizing what had just transpired, she fixed her venomous green eyes on the Frenchman still currently trapped in her grip. With a splutter, she threw him to the floor and began chanting one of her incantations, muttering some mumbo-jumbo about how he would never end up with the girl he truly wanted. This actually caught his attention as he stared up at his crush from his bewildered position on the ground; what if the girl he truly wanted was Alice? Did that mean the curse would keep him from being with her? Not that he really _believed_ in Alice's witchcraft or anything, but still...

As she continued ranting from above him, Francis realized that that had been his first kiss on the lips. And probably hers, too.

-line-

* * *

><p>At first it seemed that Alice's curse on him in the fifth-grade was nothing more than empty words. During his sophomore year in high school, when Alice was just entering Hetalia as a freshman, the two became a couple. A constantly fighting and easily-jealous couple, but a couple nonetheless. Francis quite literally felt as though he would die of happiness.<p>

The day she broke up with him (aka the day Alice had been threatened by a bunch of cheerleaders and, consequently, met Lovina and Madeline) was a Friday, he remembered. That night the two of them were supposed to watch Moulin Rouge, the Briton's favorite movie. When he received a text that read she would have to cancel, he was disappointed but thought nothing else of it. It was only when she appeared on his doorstep at nine at night that he realized something was very wrong.

He had begged her to reconsider after she broke the news, of course. It was so sudden and he knew that if their romantic relationship died, so would their friendship. She merely kissed him goodbye, pointedly avoiding his eyes as she mumbled a teary apology. As soon as she had stumbled back into the car, refusing to acknowledge Francis' cries for her to stay, the Frenchman immediately thought of the curse. No, he thought as he repeatedly dialed her number. Curses didn't exist. No magic had ended their relationship.

Right?

Now here he was, nearly two years later, sleeping in the same house as Alice and reminiscing about the most miserable things. She was still as stubborn as ever and he was still doggedly pursuing her. The only new addition to the equation was the appearance of Alfred F. Jones, his very own cousin.

Francis could not help but grit his teeth as he stared forlornly at the rotating fan above. Antonio was resting his chin in the upturned palms of his hands as he watched the television on his stomach, legs swinging back and forth idly. Gilbert had gone to get some beer from his car about ten minutes ago and had Francis not been in such a melancholy mood, he might have gone to check up on his best friend of thirteen (if not more) years. But seeing as he was so depressed that not even a passionate sex scene on TV could shake him from his painful reverie, Francis remained in his supine position on the couch.

At least Alfred was gone. He said he had heard someone in the garage and wanted to make sure Gilbert wasn't on a drunken rampage downstairs.

Now, don't get me wrong, Francis loved his cousins dearly; apart from his mother, they were the only relatives he had seen since his father had bailed on him over a decade ago. Little Madeline had always been like a sister to him, sharing with him the love of cooking, France, and long winters. Alfred, the golden boy of the family, was hardly similar to Francis personality-wise but did share several physical characteristics with his year-older cousin. For instance, they both had brilliant yellow hair, attractive cobalt eyes, and cheeky, white smirks; Alfred had been gifted the same long, elegant legs of his cousin (hence why he was such a sports deviant) and was approximately the same height as well. The only difference was that where Francis was well-groomed and aristocratic, Alfred was athletic and chiseled.

Francis noted bitterly that attractive physical traits were not all he and Alfred shared; they also seemed to possess the same unusual taste in women.

Fucking genetics.

"Oh fucking hell to the no!" Francis suddenly heard from the garage and he raised an eyebrow in Antonio's direction. His friend merely shrugged and rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one fist as the two listened intently to the squabble downstairs. A minute or two passed of Gilbert and Alfred's back-and-forth screaming when suddenly one voice overtook them both.

"ALICE! ALICE, HELP!" Madeline hollered, causing her cousin to sit up abruptly from his spot on the couch. Antonio looked surprised by his friend's sudden alertness, watching as Francis craned his neck towards the staircase behind him, jaw tight and hand clenched tightly in his lap. Not a second later, Alice Kirkland had catapulted herself down the steps, messy braid slapping against her shoulder blades as she rushed to the garage, unaware of Francis' dark blue eyes following her every move. As soon as she disappeared, the blonde visibly slumped, his jaw relaxing and clenched fist uncurling as he turned his head away from the stairs.

"Oh, _mi amigo_," Antonio murmured, voice sympathetic as he watched the usually flamboyant Frenchman flop gracelessly onto his back. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

Francis smirked derisively. "She wants nothing to do with me, _mon ami_. We've barely spoken in the last two years and she seems perfectly happy with Alfred."

There was a small hum of acknowledgement from Antonio as he mulled over his response. "Well...y'know, if you don't talk to her and she doesn't talk to you, then you're going to lose a good friend, _Francisco_. It's up to you, really, because we both know she's too hard-headed to ever initiate the first conversation. Whether or not you two end up together romantically, you still want to be her friend, right?"

The Frenchman had turned his head to look at the Spaniard in wonder, eyebrows raised in surprise. "That was surprisingly deep for you, _Antoine_."

Antonio shrugged, grinning. "I have my moments. Plus, I'm trying to be less dumb so that Lovi likes me more~!"

"Ohonhon, she's not even your girlfriend yet and you are already whipped!"

"Oh, Lovi can whip me anytime~!" the Spaniard smirked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively in an attempt to make his friend laugh. Francis had been oddly depressed as of recently (mainly due to the walking eyebrows and her blatant affection for the American black hole) so it was the responsibility of the other two BTT members to make him smile. Antonio's comment had apparently done the trick, seeing as the blonde was now chuckling fondly.

"My, my, I didn't know you were into the kinky stuff, _mon ami_," Francis grinned lecherously, giving a lude wink.

A chuckle. "Well, I'm not usually. But I'd let Lovi do anything to me."

"Like tie you up and spank you?" the blonde said, breaking into infectious laughter afterwards. Antonio, caught up in the moment, laughed along and nodded his head vigorously.

"Si, I wouldn't mind if Lovi tied me up and spanked-"

"_What the fuck?_" came a voice from the stairwell.

...

There was a moment where all the seniors could do was stare in horror at each other. Then they turned to see that Lovina herself was glaring down at them from the stairs, leaning on her good ankle and face flushing fifty shades of furious.

She leveled them with steely, moss green eyes, completely unamused. "I always knew you were a real pervert, Tomato Bastard, but this is a new extreme."

"Lovi! Uh, I was just j-joking aro-"

She held up one hand and closed her eyes.

"Save it, Kink Bastard. Get me some Advil from the bathroom and don't make eye contact with me for the next week," she ordered and Antonio obediently scampered off towards the restroom like a dog with its tail between its legs. "As for you, Frog Fucker-" Here, Francis pouted indignantly. "-don't make eye contact with me for the next three years."

The Frenchman's frown intensified.

"Why does Antonio get off so easlly?" he griped, unuse to being disliked, especially by a member of the female population. It was frustrating and entirely foreign to be in a house full of the only girls in school who _didn't_ fawn over him. What was this, the Twilight Zone?

"Because that Tomato Bastard _hasn't_ been tormenting me for the last few years of my high school existence," the Italian growled, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "Just because I'm sleeping under the same roof as you and Potato Bastard Number Two doesn't mean I've forgiven you two for being complete assholes. I'm not your goddamn punching bag!"

Francis grimaced guiltily. It was true; they had been complete assholes to Lovina over the years. He shouldn't have expected her to be amicable towards them so soon. In fact, if Gilbert didn't have a puppy crush on Madeline (and if Antonio hadn't threatened them with severe bodily harm), he and Francis would have probably been harrassing the elder Italian now.

The red-head, tired of standing on her bum leg, plopped onto the staircase with the finesse of an elephant. She blew the bangs from her face and made a point of staring at anything but Francis as she asked her next question.

"Why me, anyways? The only time I've ever talked to you was at one of Madeline's family Christmas parties in middle school. Sure, I called you a fucking pervert but I didn't think it would earn me three years of harrassment."

Another grimace from the guilty.

Antonio was back, glass of water in one hand and three bottles of medication in the other.

"I couldn't find the Advil, so I brought you the Motrin, Ecotrin, and, err...the Midol..." the Spaniard gushed, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment when he reached the menstruation pills. He obviously hadn't picked up on the serious mood that had descended over the living room. Grabbing everything but the last bottle of Midol, Lovina used the banister to pull herself upright and began hobbling back upstairs.

"Well, I'm going to sleep. Having a fucking crazy Spaniard break your ankle takes a hell of a lot out of you," she groused as Antonio pouted like a child. "I hope the bed bugs bite the shit out of you two."

When she was almost out of earshot, Francis impulsively shouted against his better judgement, "It wasn't our idea to bully you, Lovina!"

The Italian's trudging ceased and she deadpanned a faint, "What?" from upstairs. Francis dragged a hand down his face in exasperation, knowing that Gilbert would probably tear him to shreds for what he was about to say.

"The cheerleaders were the ones who asked us to bully you," he finally admitted, causing Antonio to furrow his brow in confusion. Suddenly, Lovina was halfway down the staircase, her torso practically dangling over the banister as she eyed Francis disbelievingly.

"The fucking cheerleaders, you say?" she questioned, her grip so tight on the rail that her knuckles were turning white. "Did they ask you to do this, I don't know, in the middle of freshman year?"

Francis blinked, suspicion dawning over him as he noted how very unsurprised her tone was. "...I suppose it was around that time, yes." He ignored the profanities that she emitted then. "Am I missing something?"

"Just spill the story. _Now_."

**~FLASHBACK~**

"Sophomore year is _bo-ring_!" Gilbert whined, balancing a chewed-up pencil on the bridge of his nose with practiced expertise. "Like seriously, I've spent more time in detention than I have at my own house! It's cramping my awesomeness, du-_HEY!_ Are you even listening to me, Heracles?" The brunette beside him simply snored in response and the albino's face crumpled in agitation.

"Sooooo not awesome, bro," he scoffed, pencil still teetering on his nose as he leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the table. "What am I supposed to do for the next half-hour if there's no one to talk to?"

Gilbert didn't even remember what he did to deserve this particular detention, only that it had something to do with Roderich's piano and a female upper-classman. He didn't see what the big deal was, anyways; they hadn't even made it to third base by the time Specs caught them! Whatever. The expression on the priss's face was worth it in the end.

Pulling out his Blackberry and making sure Ms. Pretty-Titties (aka the busty teacher in charge of detention that day) was still out sneaking a cigarette, Gilbert began typing away whilst balancing on the chair's hind legs, pencil still on his nose. Because he had mad skills like that.

From: Me

To: Francy-Pants

Message 4:11 PM:

_hey franny lets hang out tonight bro! i got the "stuff" _

From: Francy-Pants

To: Me

Message 4:12 PM:

_your endless supply of weed never ceases to amaze me, mon ami;) however, Alice and I are watching a movie together tonight. _

From: Me

To: Francy-Pants

Message 4:14 PM:

_"watching a movie together" = getting laid right?_

From: Francy-Pants

To: Me

Message: 4:15 PM:

_D: what kind of boy do you take me for, gilbert? ...but yes._

Gilbert cackled out loud at that, causing him to lose his balance and go careening forward into his desk. With a jolt, Heracles, the only other boy who had gotten detention on a Monday (mainly due to his constant habit of falling asleep in class), awoke, cracking one bleary green eye open to rake over the albino suspiciously.

"What are you doing in my house?" he asked, obviously unaware of his current surroundings (probably still baked from that weekend's party; really, the only time Heracles was ever awake was during a party). Before the Prussian could open his mouth to reply the Greek shook his head lethargically and said, "Actually, I don't want to know. Just be gone by morning. Or before Kiku comes over." And with that, he shut his eyes and was snoring in seconds.

"This fucking guy..." Gilbert muttered in bewilderment when suddenly he heard what sounded distinctly like a British rampage come from the floor directly below.

"Let go of me, you sodding gits!" shouted Alice Kirkland, the school's resident punk and supposed "summoner of evil spirits"; she was also Francis' _beloved_ girlfriend (note the sarcastic emphasis Gilbert puts on the word beloved). Not that the albino had a problem with her (in fact, she was a pretty decent chick and could hold her own fair share of liquor most of the time) but her...eccentric personality didn't rank her high in the school hierarchy. And the last time they'd seen each other, she'd almost killed him with her poisonous cooking.

The sound of a squabble could be heard and the albino raised one pale eyebrow curiously. Maybe he could sneak downstairs and check out the fight before Ms. Bouncy-Boobs came back... As soon as that thought crossed his mind, however, there was complete and utter silence...which meant...

The fight (if there even was one) was over and Gilbert had absolutely nothing to do _yet again_.

He sighed heavily, wondering if he should just sleep off the next twenty minutes when suddenly the classroom door opened. Expecting to see the teacher bounce in, her shirt popping buttons, Gilbert was surprised when a hand curled into his hair and promptly slammed his face into the desk.

"What the fuck!"

"Hey, dweeb," Elizabeta, his childhood playmate and on-again-off-again girlfriend, chuckled brightly. She was dressed in a short-sleeved, army-green tee that stretched tight across her bust, jean shorts that ended at her knees, and a pair of brown flip-flops with gaudy pink flowers on the straps. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail that slipped through the hole in the back of her black baseball cap and a smudge of transmission oil was smeared across her cheek.

"The fuck, Lizzy? What do you want and why are you dressed like a boy?" Gilbert growled out lowly, face still smarting from where she had rammed his nose into the desk. She crouched down so that her bum rested on her heels and glared up at him warningly.

"Nice to see you too, Gilbo. And I've been in the Auto Shop room teaching the boys how to properly change transmission fluid." She glanced behind her at the dozing Grecian. "Oh, hey, Heracles."

There was no reply and the albino scoffed. "Don't even bother with him. Mei's party was just a bit too extreme for someone of so little awesomeness. Now, whaddya want, babe? And no, I am not doing any nude shots with Specs, so don't even ask. _Again._"

The Hungarian pouted as she pulled out a yearbook form her carry-on bag (she would never call it a purse because even though she had fully embraced her femininity by now, there were some things that were just too girly even for her). Flipping through the pages and landing on the freshman section she gave Gilbert her most sickeningly sweet smile.

"I need a favor~."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. You always do. What is it this time?" he asked, exasperation evident in his voice. They'd broken up not even a week ago and she was already asking for his help?

"You know my friend Mei? The girl from Taiwan whose kitchen table you passed out on last Saturday?" Here the albino gave a proud kesesese. "Well, she asked _me_ to ask _you_ to take care of someone for her."

The yearbook was placed upright on the Prussian's desk and Elizabeta's slim finger pointed to one Lovina Vargas. She was attractive but nothing special and most certainly not Gilbert's type judging by the scowl on her face.

"What did this girl do to Mei exactly?" he asked, filthy thoughts of a hot girl-on-girl catfight flashing through his mind. The brunette girl, obviously aware of which direction Gilbert's train of thought was headed, frowned in annoyance.

"She apparently attacked a bunch of the cheerleaders like literally five minutes ago. The psycho even head-butted Marissa."

The albino gave a quick bark of laughter at this, obviously amused by the idea of that bitchy red-head getting headbutted by a freshman pipsqueak. "Well, it's nice that you're so concerned for the cheerleaders and all, Lizzy, but what if I say no?"

At this, Elizabeta rose to her full height and grinned pleasantly, yet again procuring something from her carry-on bag. This time it was photos and she dropped a handful of them in front of a wary-looking Gilbert.

"Pictures me and Mei took of you last Saturday. Quite impressive considering we took 'em with a cellphone," she explained as the male rifled through the photos, a look of horror spreading across his features with every outrageous picture he saw of himself (he didn't even remember what he was doing in half of these photos but he knew that it was most definitely not legal). "Now, I'd hate it if these_ lovely_ images somehow got back to your Grandfather. Who knows how pissed off he would be then? The last one is my favorite, by the way!"

Gilbert flipped to the back of the stack.

Wha- _oh my fucking God_.

Was that him and Ivan-?

Shit. Was _that_ why his wrists were so sore?

"Are you fucking blackmailing me, Lizzy?" he growled in disbelief as the girl just smiled, obviously pleased with herself. She might have looked like a runway model, but Gilbert would be lying if he said there weren't times where he wanted to wring her goddamn neck. There was a moment of silence as the Prussian merely stewed in his own frustration, finally relenting only after he saw that detention would be over in ten minutes and the teacher would be returning soon. "Fine. Fucking whatever. I'll torment the dumb freshman, just keep the pictures to yourself, okay, you psychotic bitch?"

With a grandiose gesture, Elizabeta swept the photographs on Gilbert's desk into her bag and flashed him an absolutely beatific smile. "Thanks, Gilbo! I knew I could count on you, babe!" She pecked him lightly on the cheek, long brown bangs tickling his skin in an all-too familiar way. And in an instant she was gone.

Gilbert rubbed his eyes tiredly, wondering why he always put up with her bullshit. Was it how gorgeous she was, their history together, or perhaps just Elizabeta in general?

Fuck, he needed a cigarette or something.

...

Well, it could have been worse.

He could have been that Lovina Vargas girl.

**~END FLASHBACK~**

"I KNEW IT!" Lovina screeched, face absolutely livid as the other inhabitants of the house cringed at the sound of her voice. "I FUCKING KNEW IT WAS THOSE BITCHES!"

"Bloody hell, Lovina," chastised Alice, rubbing her ear sorely as she and the others emerged from the garage; Feliciana peeked her head out worriedly from the upstairs bedroom. "What on earth has gotten into you?"

The Italian grabbed onto the banister and practically catapulted herself down the stairs (well...as much as her throbbing ankle would allow) into Alice's arms. She gripped the Brit's John Lennon t-shirt tightly and shook her back and forth with brute force.

"Those fucking girls who attacked you freshman year are the ones who told Gilbert and Francis to harrass me!" she fumed, causing a chain of reactions throughout the room. First, Francis cradled his head in his hands, fully aware that he was the recipient of Gilbert's murderous glare right now. Then Alice's jaw dropped in disbelief and she mumbled a gobsmacked, "You're fucking shitting me."

Lovina shook the blonde even more, shouting an, "I fucking know, right?"

"THOSE...THOSE..._SLAGS_! THOSE FUCKING COWARDS!"

"I FUCKING KNOW, RIGHT?"

As the two girls exchanged vulgarities that could properly describe the cheerleaders, Madeline punched Gilbert square in the shoulder.

"Ouch, Birdie-!"

"That's for doing the dirtywork of a bunch of fucking cheerleaders! What, are you two so desperate for tail you would torment a total stranger for a quick lay?" she seethed, causing everyone in the room (well, everyone who wasn't screaming at the top of their lungs) to stare at her, completely flabbergasted. Sweet Madeline Williams, the same girl who peed her pants when Alfred had told her the production of maple syrup was indefinitely discontinued, was cussing _and_ talking about getting laid? In the same sentence? The end of the world had to be approaching.

"B-Birdie, it's not like that! They were blackmailing me, I swear-!"

While all of this chaos unfolded before them, Alfred, Antonio, and Feliciana stared on in uncertainty from the sidelines. Madeline had joined the other two girls in their vicious shouting whilst Gilbert had just tackled Francis to the floor.

Someone knocked a lamp over.

The screams increased in pitch.

Feliciana started crying as Antonio went to pry his two friends apart and Alfred had started to cheer Francis on, ordering him to "kick that albino ass back to Berlin!"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and a sniveling Feliciana went to answer it, making sure to avoid all of the madness surrounding her. Opening the door, she was met with two serious-looking officers, who quirked their eyebrows in the same identical look of suspicion as a certain _someone_ screamed, "Yeah, knee that Nazi, Francis! Yea-hey, no. Wait. Stop-there's no groping in the middle of mortal combat, dude!"

"We've gotten some complaints about the noise..." one of the officers explained, watching as the three other girls loudly discussed methods of murdering cheerleaders (one had even started summoning the devil) and the males all seemed to be in a huge brawl/orgy on the living room floor. Suddenly, there was a soft thump and the policemen looked down to see that the little Italian had dropped to her knees, a white flag (seemingly procured out of no where) waving back and forth sporadically.

"In the name of pizza and pasta, please spare my life! I-I have a family, a weenie dog! You can have all of them, just don't hurt meeee!" she squealed, fat crocodile tears rolling down her face.

The policemen blinked. One reached nervously for his walkie-talkie.

"Uh, we need backup," the man spoke quietly as the Italian dried her tears on the tiny white flag. "I repeat we need backup. Please prepare eight drug tests, immediately." Feliciana had stopped crying, wondrously asking who it was the man was talking to ("Ve, Alice talks to people that I don't see either! Are you a wizard too, Mr. Police Man?").

...

"...I repeat, we need backup and drug tests immediately. _Immediately._"

**[A/N: See this beautifully long chapter I wrote you guys? This serves as an apology for my mini-hiatus over the summer so please FORGIVE ME! T.T **

**Anyways, no song in this one:(**

**And just because there was a lot of FrUk doesn't mean that it's the pairing I will choose. To be honest, guys, I'm super sad: no matter who ends up with Alice, someone is going to get hurt and I feel so bad inflicting pain on Alfred and/or Francis. I am the worst human being alive.**

**Oh, and sorry if the ending's a bit rushed. I wanted to get this out tonight and it's already 3 AM here xD**

**Hoped you enjoyed it, btw:)]**


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